A Life of Chryme
by AStampedeOfChickens
Summary: In a strange reversal of fates, Ylisse, ruled by the vain and self-styled King Marth, begins a war of aggression against Plegia. Enter Robin, Prince of Plegia, Mage Almighty, Swordsman Extraordinaire. With a knack for changing fates, Robin must captain his own band of soldiers to combat this threat, even as more trouble brews unseen. And where is Chrom in all this? AU fem!Chrom
1. Chapter 1: Midnight Encounters

Summary: In a strange reversal of fates, Ylisse, ruled by the vain and self-styled King Marth, begins a war of aggression against Plegia. Enter Robin, Prince of Plegia, Mage Almighty, Swordsman Extraordinaire. With a knack for changing fates, Robin must captain his own band of soldiers to combat this threat, even as more trouble brews unseen. And where is Chrom in all this? AU fem!Chrom

* * *

Chapter One: Midnight Encounters

* * *

"War? It's an enjoyable activity to practice and prepare for, young prince, but even as a general, I always dread the beginning of one." - Mustafa, to a young Robin.

* * *

Stretching slightly, Robin let out a sigh as he relaxed, seeking solace from the cold as he draped himself over a stone bench in the castle courtyard. For all its daily heat, at night Castle Plegia was a veritable icebox, chilling Robin to the bone. Only his trusty cloak, draped securely over his body, kept the frigid air away.

It had been a near-catastrophe earlier, Robin knew. Only several days had passed since he had met with the Ylissean soldiers posing as bandits near the border. They had captured Camparia, the daughter of the famed general, Mustafa, and cousin to Robin. King Marth, leader of Ylisse, claimed that the soldiers found no backing under him, but plentiful taguel slave-warriors had been present.

Robin sighed again. The taguel had always been the unfortunate ones on whatever side of the Plegia-Ylisse conflict they found themselves. For having their own rabbit feet, they were really unlucky. Robin hoped they could find peace one day. It was unlikely though, as long as King Marth reigned.

Having named himself after the Hero-King of Legend, the current Marth was a vile and twisted man. Living a life of debauchery in spite of the so-called "virtue" he was sworn to uphold as the Exalt of Naga, he drained the royal treasury dry and looked to be searching for funding in form of "liberating" the material possessions of Plegian farmers.

Robin had been with his father, uncle, and cousin as they toured the devastation and brought aid when the Ylisseans attacked. They were easily beaten off by the elite Grimleal guard that protected the King, but Camparia had been the true objective of the ambush. Finding her taken and missing at the end of the quick battle, Mustafa had made to race in pursuit.

Both Validar and Robin had been wary of another ambush. Knowing that arguing now would only lengthen the distance between them and Camparia, it was hastily agreed that Validar and Mustafa would pursue, while Robin and his three guards would return to Castle Plegia. Robin had scoffed at the faulty reasoning Validar had given to decide it.

'We can't have the entire Plegian royal family running headfirst into another ambush. We'd better send you back, Robin. Not that any Ylissean rabble could stand against the Mage King of Plegia!' he had laughed.

Robin shook his head again. Those were horrible tactics. The king did not expose himself to danger (much less an almost guaranteed ambush) to save another piece, even if said piece was Robin's beloved cousin and part of the royal family.

Laying across stone bench, Robin made to stretch again, but suddenly stilled. He sensed a presence somewhere nearby, and for once, it wasn't his stalker Dark Mage who was assigned to his personal guard. Despite the warmth of his cloak, Robin shivered involuntarily at the thought of her.

This presence was different. It lacked the cold and damp feeling of someone walking over your grave that Robin was unhappily accustomed to. It was more… bright. A sort of sweet warmth that made Robin feel strange... But it wasn't an aura that was supposed to belong, not here in the courtyard of Castle Plegia in the dead of night, and Robin felt it getting closer, slinking behind stone pillars in the desert sand.

Whoever it was, he wasn't used to the way the sand shifted. Robin resisted the sudden urge to perk an eyebrow as he heard a muted curse as the stranger stumbled. Keeping himself very still, Robin mentally checked for the small tome in his coat pocket, and slowly reached down for the sword he wore at all times. Speculation over the unexpected visitor fought with the tactical planning in his mind as he began to think. Robin, wishing for privacy, had dismissed his personal guards, something he was beginning to regret. Calling out for the soldiers manning the walls now would lose him the chance to surprise this midnight marauder, and they would come running as reinforcements the moment Robin began to use any magic.

The presence was coming closer now, and Robin fought the urge to tense, waiting until the last possible moment to make his move. He would have to wait, he decided. Until the last moment, that way he could get the first strike in and make the best of this unforeseen altercation.

The person was very close now, closing in on a pillar near where Robin lay. A small, almost silent scuffle told him that the man was very, very close now. On the other side of the pillar just behind him? No, wait, maybe he was—

Shouting suddenly rang out in the silent night, breaking Robin's concentration and causing him to jerk up. Perhaps it was the guards, crying their dismay at an ambush. With his element of surprise now lost, Robin whirled up himself, silently leaping up off the bench and grabbing the sword in one hand as he did so, the other reaching into his pocket for the small tome. Eyes open now, Robin dashed forward, sword ready in hand, ready to skewer the Assassin, no doubt a member of some band that dared attack the castle now, when most of the royal guard were out in the field with their King.

But whoever he was, it seemed he had his own plans in mind. Robin mentally cursed his own initiative as he crashed into the man, who had been darting to the next column nearby. Why hadn't Robin just stepped back and wait for the intruder to reveal himself?

The two crashed, knocking heads together as they fell in a pile. Element of surprise nonexistent now, Robin felt himself land on top of his assailant, sword falling somewhere aside as the tome was crushed underhand.

"Ow, what the— Get off me!" came a sudden cry from underneath, as Robin swore to himself as well, scrambling to get off the assassin. Grabbing the sword, but forced to leave the small tome in the dust and sand, Robin leapt away from his intended target.

As per his Tactician training, time seemed to slow for a second as Robin considered his next move. The stranger wasn't the most graceful of assassins. That could have been the difference between Robin living and dying in those last seconds. The stranger was armed with a sword, sheathed at his hip. Little armor, only form-fitting leather meant for stealth. On the shoulders, steel spikes in place of heavy pauldrons, as much as for offense as defense. It wouldn't have mattered had Robin kept his tome, armored or not, but with only the sword in hand, Robin thanked Grima for small mercies.

Robin's eyes flickered across the scene before him once more, still considering. No more than a second or so had passed, yet his mind continued in overdrive. His target was rubbing his head, face grimaced in pain. He was shorter, it seemed, but not without a steely strength in limb, and… a rather pretty face. Good complexion, fair skin, and blue hair, slightly long for a man, kept out of the eye with a taut headband.

Errantly, a stray thought crossed Robin's mind, breaking his Tactician's mindset. 'For a man, he could give Tharja a run for her coin. He's really good-looking.' Said good-looking man continued to rub his head, wincing in pain.

'Wait,' Robin thought, realization upon him. 'Wait a minute. He's not a he. He's a _she_.'

Eloquence aside, Robin was right, and about a _girl_ no less (Robin could hear his mother Morgana's soft laughter from any(read: every) time Robin had been forced to interact(read: blunder) with a posh, older lady of the court), and his face began to burn. In retrospect, she was very scantily clad in the leather outfit, and she had been very close, almost as close as that one time Tharja had snuck up on him, trying to touch— That was not a memory for the present situation. Blushing madly, Robin stumbled back, tripping over his own feet and landing in a _puff_ of sand.

It was strange. He saw more skin from Tharja every day, but it never bothered him before, not like this. Why would this random girl have such an effect on him?

Maybe it was because she was probably trying to kill him, Robin realized, and flushed redder, if it was possible. He had heard of fantasies of the sort, but to find out he was such a deviant...

Robin was startled out of his wild introspection when said probable murderer finally leapt up from the sand, headache finally cured with a lollipop whipped out from a bag at her waist.

No wait, this was bad. Why did he have to watch where she drew the lollipop from? 'Because I have to watch for threats,' Robin told himself. But now he was getting distracted by the way her body moved as she moved… as she… uhh…as she moved...

"Who are you?!" came a shriek, as the object of Robin's idle fantasies came whirling at him, sword drawn in a sharp line across Robin's neck.

Strange. He thought he was good at swordplay. How had she moved so fast? Where was his sword? Robin glanced towards his sword-hand, and found the weapon in question a foot away from where his hand rested, partially buried in the sand.

Well then. Diplomacy it is. Robin realized that perhaps it was unwise to admit you're the crown prince of Plegia to a Ylissean Assassin, but when she's gorgeous and has a sword to your throat... Famed as his tactics were, Robin didn't see another viable option open right now.

Gulping, Robin opened his mouth warily. "I'm Robin, Prince of Plegia," he began, but then Robin's eyes narrowed slightly as the absurdity of the situation _finally_ hit him, grim consequences be damned. " _Who are you_? This is Castle Plegia and it is the dead of night—"

Robin found himself cut off and she leaned forward, pressing the blade's edge at him and forcing him to lean back, losing his balance and sprawling himself in the sand in an effort to get away from the sword at his neck.

'Obviously, this diplomacy thing will have to wait.' Robin thought dryly. Hopefully he'd still be alive then. He chanced a glance at his sword, but the Assassin in front of him reclaimed his attention easily.

With a fierce look on her face, standing over his body as though straddling him, the woman snarled at him. "Robin, Prince of Plegia? Hah!" She leaned in closer to him, an audacious scowl upon her lips. "More like Prince of _Perverts_ , with the way you were looking at me earlier! Disgusting!"

Sputtering, Robin quickly felt his embarrassment at her insinuation turn into anger, then embarrassment again as he received a front row view of her form, just inches above him.

"Get off me! Don't call me a pervert when you're practically in my lap!" The words, combined with Robin suddenly furious movement, motivated the Assassin to leap back, allowing Robin to regain both his feet and his sword. With blade in hand, Robin assumed a guard stance, facing her. "Now tell me, criminal, who are you? Why are you here? And no tricks, I can have the guards here in an instant."

Her face impassive at those words, she lowered her sword slightly, gesturing to him with it. "You really are the prince then, huh? Figures you'd be arrogant, I should've known." Ignoring the beginnings of his indignant retort, she sheathed her sword as she continued. "My name is Chryme, and I'm no _criminal!_ " she hissed, glaring at him.

Robin raised an eyebrow in spite of himself. Her name was Chryme? As in, crime? An Assassin named for what she committed, that was rich.

Taking a moment to compose herself, the misfortunately named girl answered Robin's questioning glance at her attire with a pout. "I just do some questionable things as times. That's all. Anyway, that's not the point. Circumstances aside, I'm here on important business actually, to—"

Whatever Chryme was about to say was cut off as she suddenly twisted and bent over backwards, dodging an angry scythe of wind magic cutting through the space she had occupied only moments prior. Robin moved too, clearing himself of any collateral danger as his head whirled to stare in the direction it came from. Though it was too dark to see the figure's face in the distance, Robin already knew who it was. There was no mistaking that icky feeling that settled over him as he involuntarily shivered. _Tharja_.

Tharja was a long time childhood playmate of Robin, along with Henry and Aversa. Being about the same age, the four had often adventured together throughout Castle Plegia and its grounds, whether it involved traversing the dusty libraries or finding giant desert lizards to hunt with sticks and stones. That was, they played together whenever they had downtime from practicing magic and studying from a young age to become Mages. Having blossomed into fearsome masters of magic in their own right, last year the trio had been given the responsibility of being personal guards to Robin, seeing as how dark magic could vary wildly with the amount of emotion invested into it. One of Robin's guards was particularly dedicated to her work.

And now said Dark Mage was briskly hurrying over to the two and readying another blast of wind magic, the faint green of the spell illuminating her torso. Though Robin couldn't actually see it, he knew there was a scowl gracing her face. There always was whenever Robin was in the presence of another female, as if her permanent monopoly on his company was going to ever change.

"Tharja, stand down! She's not a threat." Even as he said the words, his eyes flickered back to where said non-threat was taking cover from behind the bench Robin had been previously occupying, an unslung bow in hand and an arrow at the ready. Her eyes were calculating, he noticed, probably judging how to best close the distance between herself and Tharja to cut her down if need be.

Seeing as how quick she was, and how deft with the sword in hand, Robin moved between the two as Tharja finally closed the distance herself. Bad tactics for a Mage, Robin knew, but she always tended to lose a bit of her composure when it came to him.

Tharja came to a halt, her figure unnecessarily close to Robin's. Robin stifled an inner sigh. Ever since childhood, Tharja had maintained a strange fascination with Robin, seeking his presence and touch. It had been fun and games when they were kids and play-wrestling and tugging on hands to hide in closets. But there had been a line that Robin had drawn in the sand and Tharja had crossed it when he awoke one night to find her curled up next to him in bed, violet eyes sparkling mischievously in the shadows. That was when Robin realized Tharja's playful teasing about becoming his queen was no joke, not anymore (or perhaps it never was).

His cheeks coloring slightly at the memory, Robin did not intend to let his overzealous bodyguard brutalize this Assassin. Making sure that Tharja would not attack Chryme at her next opportunity, Robin turned to the leather-clad girl once more, covertly signaling 'it's okay' with his left hand, a system devised when they were kids to communicate when the stuffy old grownups were spoiling the fun.

"So, why was it you were here again? Something about important business?"

Defiantly, Chryme straightened a little, standing up from her cover of the bench. "I'm here because I'm here to warn you. It's no secret that the Ylissean people are buckling under the strain of King Marth's rule. I want to see him dethroned." Chryme took a shuddering breath, as though remembering some past tragedy. "I'm here to warn you that King Marth has mustered his armies and intends to conquer Plegia. The first step is capturing your father, King Validar."

"She's not lying, Robin." The sudden appearance of another voice startled Robin out of his reverie and he whirled around to find Aversa, complete with the regalia of a Dark Flier and a tome in hand, standing next to him. Swearing to himself, Robin gave her a critical look. Aversa prided herself on her elusiveness, preferring to go about undetected, and sensing Tharja's presence always seemed to take the edge off Robin's environmental awareness. Perhaps Tharja _wanted_ Robin to sense her. It wouldn't have surprised him.

Aversa, dark golden eyes boring into Robin's own, dropped her proclamation. "It's the Ylisseans. A detachment of Paladins and Taguel slave-warriors captured your father an hour ago." She closed her eyes and took a breath, then continued. "I received word from Casper. The message was his dying words."

Casper had been a member of Validar's elite guard, a young man barely older than Robin himself and a boy Aversa had been sweet on. It was no easy feat of magic to send a message across long distances, requiring an intimate knowledge of the receiver and a great deal of magical power and concentration. If Casper had sent Aversa the message in the midst of an ambush, then it must as been as he was cut down by Ylissean lances and claws.

Robin gritted his teeth. He knew it, of course he knew it. Angrily running his hand through his hair, Robin turned away from Aversa even as he began to speak into the air. "Dammit! Grima below, of course. It's too late to mount any sort of rescue mission." Robin began to pace, mind whirling. "They have at least a five day head start on us with any ground force... I guess a wing of Wyvern Knights could hope to catch up, since they have prisoners, but I'd expect there to be Bow Knights if they have any shred of common sense.

"I guess we just have to wait for them to contact us. Aversa," Robin turned to the girl, her face impassive. "You should get some rest. Henry," for he had appeared as well, his smile ever present on his face, "Go alert the council. We'll have to begin preparing a ransom, because that's surely what Marth will want." Robin sighed. Hopefully the Exalt would be reasonable and predictable.

Aside, Chryme studied Robin with an unreadable expression on her face, and Robin turned back to her as his two friends made their way back into the castle. Chryme opened her mouth as though to say something, only to be cut off once more as another guard, this one armed with a lance and clad in metal armor, ran up to Robin.

"Prince Robin! A Ylissean Assassin is on the grounds! We've cornered her, but—" The man was cut off as the Assassin he _hadn't_ detected on the grounds swore and turned in the direction he hadn't yet finished pointing in.

"Oh Naga! Lissa!" Ignoring the flabbergasted look on the guard's face, Chryme sprinted off.

Robin turned to the man in time to see the lance in hand fall to the ground. 'I swear, if this is the quality of the castle guards, then anyone could just waltz in whenever they wanted.' Regardless, Robin nodded at the man. "I see. Return to your post, and make sure to bring your lance with you."

* * *

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are? Just... Sometimes I feel like it's wasted on me. Promise me you'll find another if I ever pass on. Please." - Casper, to Aversa.

* * *

Robin hurried after Chryme, and Tharja followed. They came across Chryme just as she burst in upon a crowd of guards threatening the Assassin they _had_ found. Batting aside their lances with her hand, Chryme reached the center of the semicircle of men and grabbed ahold of the girl inside.

"Lissa, are you okay? Naga above, Emm will—" Chryme found herself muted as Lissa, the Trickster, (not an Assassin, not that the ever competent guards would notice, Robin thought) shushed her, her eyes on Robin as he arrived. Gesturing for the guards to return to their duties, Robin watched as Lissa pulled herself out of Chryme's grasp.

"I'm fine, I'm fine! Dodged every javelin they threw at me, don't worry. And don't call me Lissa! We agreed on codenames, didn't we?" Lissa sighed. "Oh, forget it. So this is the prince?"

Not waiting for Chryme to utter her assurances, Robin nodded. "Pleased to meet you Lissa. My name is Robin. I take it that you were the distraction that helped Chryme get into the castle?"

Lissa laughed, a melodic and bright sound. Robin could get used to that. "Yeah, I was! Not hard to distract your guards. I just screamed and ran in one direction." Grinning, Lissa gave Robin a once-over before allowing her face to drop the charming smile. "Let us help you. Chryme and I hate _King_ Marth," she spat, the word sounding like venom. "He's a horrible dictator! We know our way around Ylisse, and we have connections. Chryme here is amazing with her sword and bow, and I can use healing staves and a blade myself."

This was all rather sudden, but all Robin needed to be sure was a rather reluctant nod from Tharja. He had signaled her to curse the two with a small truth hex. The lack of any stumbling had already proved the earnesty of her words (even if Robin would have already sworn by the expression on her face regardless). Robin liked to think he wasn't overly naive.

"I could use some inside knowledge of Ylisse, that's for sure. Alright, I believe you. I'll have some servants show you to some rooms. Come, it's late and we need to prepare to move tomorrow or the day after. It won't be long until Marth sends his condolences at our loss."

* * *

"Miracles? Sure, maybe they exist, but if you want me to rely on a miracle to win a battle, you'll want a different Tactician." - Robin

* * *

True to Robin's predictions, the next day saw a Ylissean courier arrive and drop off Marth's demands. Curiously, Chryme and Lissa had declined to be at the meeting, instead hiding behind curtains in order to hear and not be seen by him.

Acquiescing to the strangely reasonable demand for gold, Robin sent the courier away and frowned. He would have to accompany the gold caravan himself or risk it being taken by actual bandits in search of a payday or more Ylissean marauders. Perhaps a guard of a hundred or so men, plus Robin's own elite unit.

He was sitting in a conference room now, a smaller one meant for the royalty and a few advisors. His three guards and the two Ylisseans were present, and pondering over the plan he had just presented and the risks involved.

"What I'm trying to get across is this," Robin finished. "Marth will probably try some underhanded tactic to get the gold without releasing my father. An ambush on the way or during the exchange is almost certain. I need some people I can rely on, and you five seem like my best bet. Will you come?"

He needn't have asked. Aversa gave Robin a simple look and Tharja's grip on his shoulder told him all he needed to know. Lissa's vigorous nod threatened to shake her head off, and Henry laughed at the sight before following suit, eliciting a grumbly reaction from Lissa at his mimicry. Chryme didn't even bother reacting to the question and instead voiced her own thoughts.

"The six of us, huh? I wouldn't mind getting the chance to strike down that wolf, Marth."

Robin noted the sudden change in Lissa's demeanor at those words as he quipped back, "We'll be delivering sheep of gold then. Shepherds, aren't we?"

Chryme stared at Robin as though he had sprouted a second head, but he continued. "We're a group now. We need to be able to trust one another, for better or worse, and I trust all of you. But I can't exactly call you my guard now, because this isn't about the Prince of Plegia. This is about protecting the people of both Plegia and Ylisse." The sheep, as it were.

Chryme grinned at that. She got the message. "We're Shepherds then. I like it."

The naming having been accomplished, Robin sighed. Herding those sheep to greener pastures meant getting rid of the biggest wolf. And ridding themselves of the Exalt could easily bring about events that none of them were prepared for. Robin hoped that wouldn't be the case.

* * *

"Chryme, please! Don't argue with me for once in your life! I love you and Lissa with all my heart, so take her and go! I'll be fine! Just go!" - 'Emm', to a young Chryme.

* * *

AN: Hello and welcome to my first fic! I hope this chapter doesn't seem too short, but this is where I wanted to cut it off, just before they begin their journey. Being that this is my first fic, excuse me for still learning the ropes of pacing and writing as it is

This idea is several months old now, born of a conversation between my friend and beta DuckTator. Creds for the photo also to her. This was meant to be Chrobin at the start, but genderbent. Course, genderbending Robin doesn't have much impact, in all honesty. Everyone else will probably stay the same gender. Also, the pairings are actually still up in the air. Feel free to make suggestions!


	2. Chapter 2: Of Courts and Roads

Summary: In a strange reversal of fates, Ylisse, ruled by the vain and self-styled King Marth, begins a war of aggression against Plegia. Enter Robin, Prince of Plegia, Mage Almighty, Swordsman Extraordinaire. With a knack for changing fates, Robin must captain his own band of soldiers to combat this threat, even as more trouble brews unseen. And where is Chrom in all this? AU fem!Chrom

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Chapter 2: Of Courts and Roads

* * *

"Son, whenever you're in doubt, always remember the reason behind your choices. When I act for Plegia, I act not for myself, but the people of my nation." - Validar, to Robin

* * *

In all of his years, Robin had never seen his father have trouble with strongarming the council. Call it dictatorship or tyranny, charisma or charm, Robin always took note of how his father got his way. Without his father now to spearhead the royal agenda, Robin was having trouble.

His mother Morgana, having been gone for weeks now, was overseeing an administrative project in some port city to the west. Recently refugees had been trickling in, and Morgana wanted to see what she could do about it.

And left alone to bring the council of Grimleal elders to heel for the first time, Robin was not having a very pleasant time.

The leader amongst them was a relatively young man named Orton, who had risen the ranks with startling speed, and was now attempting to block his efforts at every opportunity:

"Gold, my _dear princeling_ , is a fickle thing. So solid, and yet so shimmery. You must understand; Ylisseans dogs like that Marth mutt have no business with Plegian gold. It would be better to send a counter demand, a series of negotiations with the Ylisseans in order to, uh, lower the burden that we will heft on Plegia's people. _Your_ people, you must understand, _dear princeling_ —"

Though showing no outward sign of it, Robin swore mentally and tuned out the drivel he was being subjected to. It was logical, that the council would attempt to stall the reclamation of their monarch. This was an _opportunity_ for them, to try and wrest power from Robin's family and install a more powerful parliament of their own. All they would have to do is resist the return of the king for as long as they needed to sink their greasy hooks into the court, sway the military leaders of Plegia to their side, and cajole the other nobles into their ranks.

A parliament headed by fat old fools would doom this country. All the work Queen Morgana had done to lessen the religious frenzy the country had lived under would be lost to these fanatics. Robin could see a war begun by Plegia on the horizon, if this path of events continued.

Returning his thoughts to the situation at hand, Robin scanned the council as Orton continued indulging himself in his vocal fantasy. Behind, he could sense Tharja standing steadfast and tall, head slightly bowed as though listening to the man filling the room with noise. Instead, she was covertly watching Robin's left hand for a signal, at which she would spring to drastic, violent action.

Although Robin knew it was the wrong way to go about things, it was very, very tempting.

On the other side of the courtroom, the rest of the Shepherds stood statuesque, cowls over their faces. That was fortunate, Aversa was probably fantasizing about painting the walls with blood, while Henry was most likely asleep (and dreaming about blood). The two Ylisseans, now they were harder to read. Lissa looked to be fidgeting underneath the robe and Chryme looked slowly around the room, as though plotting to liberate the area of its riches.

It was time to take some risks. Robin held up his left hand slowly, eyes locked onto Orton's. Perhaps ten seconds passed as the man sensed the steady stare, and he ceased speaking slowly, voice wilting.

"Thank you for your input, Lord Orton. It is _greatly_ appreciated." Taking a small pause after this bald-faced lie and finding that Orton was giving him a dirty look, Robin issued him and all those in the council a cold stare of his own. "I will return to the subject at hand. Your liege lord and sworn king has been abducted, and the Ylissean king has issued conditions for his return. The amount, while great, is not nearly too great for Plegia to bear. The treasury has more than enough funds to pay this ransom. Worry not for my people," ('not that you lot ever have,' Robin muttered aside), "because I will ensure the burden is borne by my family. It is a very simple matter. I will take one hundred soldiers from our standing army and guard the caravan myself."

Orton sputtered at Robin's cold and faintly mocking tone, but before he could retort, another figure rose from the front of the council members and Robin felt a small chill pass over him. He had always been a bit of a wildcard in court, but Validar had warned Robin that he was a scheming manipulator behind the scenes. So was Orton part of his faction?

Gangrel dusted himself as he brought himself to his full height and smiled. He was only several inches taller than Robin, but the almost unhinged look in his eyes made Robin want to flinch back. Before he could, Tharja's familiar hand grasped his arm from behind, and he steadied himself. Easy now.

"Prince Robin… You may cease your posturing. You are correct of course. I motion that we approve of the princeling's _demands_. After all, without our... _beloved_ , King Validar, whatever will we do? Surely we can't have a whelp like yourself leading the country. Perhaps it wouldn't be too hard to convince your mother to remarry, have her birth a strong, _capable_ heir..." Gangrel, smiling even more wildly now, returned to his seat as the council took a vote.

Grinding his teeth, Robin closed his eyes and focused. He hated the man. If it came to a duel, he'd slice the man's head off in seconds. Only Tharja's hand helped him keep his composure—and another hand, Robin opened his eyes, on his other side. Attached to that gentle grip was Chryme, a small smile on her face as though she understood what Robin felt, being belittled in front of a chamber full of old politicians, insulted as though her lineage was in doubt, and trodden over by cruel men with heavy heels.

Robin wondered at that, but was thankful all the same.

* * *

"My son, even if you're a prince, understand that there will always be those who will not give you what you want. You will have enemies. Find good friends to help you surpass them." - Morgana, to a young Robin.

* * *

What felt like ages later had the Shepherds beginning their journey to Ylisse, accompanied by a hundred men loyal to the king and a caravan of ten wagons carrying gold within.

At the front, Robin led the procession, flanked by his guard. At the very end of the grouping was Henry and Lissa, talking animatedly about their last night's sleep while Lissa pet and cooed over her horse. Robin was glad for that, if only because it was at least one member of his guard attempting to make friends with the Ylisseans.

He couldn't exactly blame Aversa for being mostly quiet though, given the shock of what she had experienced with Casper earlier. In the dead of night, Robin, Tharja, and Henry had checked up on her, being her closest friends. It was normal to mourn and seek isolation when a loved one is lost, but when the griever is a wielder of dark magic, it was best to leave that grief behind as soon as possible, so that clarity of mind and judgment could be preserved. There were many children's tales in Plegia about Sorcerers unable to cope... and what they were driven to after.

In any case, Henry didn't mention the late night impromptu sleepover and party on Aversa's floor to Lissa. As if reading what was on Robin's mind, Aversa looked at him and smiled, eyes clear, before signaling 'thank you' with her hand and taking off on her pegasus to scout ahead.

Robin watched her fly on ahead, then returned his attention to the rest of their company. Henry and Lissa were arguing about birds now, and Chryme was watching her sister with a smile on her face, until she saw Robin looking back at her. She spurred her horse onward and sidled along next to him.

"You know Robin," she began, eyes scanning the gently sloping dunes. "Is it really wise to have the men at ease so soon? I thought you were dealing with my _countrymen_ under the guise of banditry." She seemed unhappy with her connection to them, but did not try to ignore it.

"We're barely an hour out of the capital. Should we be expecting danger?" Detailed military planning of the enemy was not an asset Robin was expecting Chryme to bring. He was right.

"No, er, it's just that…" Chryme fidgeted. "Don't the Plegian people attack caravans such as these for human sacrifices?"

Robin gave her a weird look. "Even caravans that carry the royal banner? Not that I'm aware of, no…" His voice trailed off. He wondered if Chryme was being serious about this.

"Well maybe not," she began again. "But, I've heard tales from Ylissean merchants that the Plegians always try to loot and sack their caravans, and cart away the survivors to sacrifice to their dark god." Belated, Robin realized she was serious, and began to laugh.

Chryme flushed and insisted. "I'm serious! Don't _your people_ —ahh, err, I mean to say... " Her voice trailed off again as she realized the unintended offense she was presenting. Luckily for the Assassin, her conversation partner was too amused to care.

"No," he managed, stifling his laughter and smoothing his features. He failed, grinning as he continued. "The Plegian people are just people. The farmers farm, the merchants sell, the guardsmen go about their duties and all of it proceeds just fine without any human sacrifices to our, ahem, _dark god_."

Chryme blushed and went silent, considering. After several seconds, she looked back at him, composed. "So that means your people don't eat human flesh for snacks?"

She huffed and turned away when the only reply she received was Robin's laughter. But before she could get away from him, Robin stopped and sobered up, mostly serious now.

"Is that really what the Ylissean people think of us? That's… a bit disheartening. I'm not surprised there's so much animosity between our peoples."

Chryme considered him. "I don't think so, but that's what our horrid king proclaims, and I think those that report such news are liars. Most of the townsfolk seem to believe it though. Their tales are gruesome. I just wanted to make sure, is all. I did come to you for your help, in the end." She looked to the sky, watching Aversa's mount lazily glide along above them.

Following her eyes, Robin spoke again. "We're mostly safe, this deep in Plegian territory. I doubt any bandits would try anything on the main roads. Grimleal guards patrol the roads regularly, to protect the travelers and farmers along them. Aversa doesn't need to be flying, but I think she just wants some air.

"Here in Plegia, worshipping Grima is just that. He's our God, slumbering in the warm sands that we call home. My mother taught me that before, Naga was believed to be some sort of demon incarnate, born to bring about the end of our people," Robin glanced upwards, into the deep blue sky above, several lazy clouds rolling in that expanse. "But, it's hard to hate a demon god associated with something so beautiful as the sky. Eventually, with the whole lack of demonic judgment raining from the skies, the Plegian people stopped worrying and went back to working. Most of them don't know this, but in Ylisse, your people believe much the same, with the roles reversed, right? It's just that the Ylisseans still hate and fear Plegia with the fury we let go."

Robin looked back at Chryme, and found her already staring at him. She flushed, but Robin pressed on. "Why did you come to Plegia then, for help? Your people hate mine."

Lissa spoke up from behind, she and Henry having fallen silent and listening to the two at the front. "We went to Regna Ferox at first, in all honesty. The commander at the Longfort threw a javelin at Chryme. Said that any Ylisseans on important business were probably going to corrupt their country, with our king and all."

Chryme scowled at the memory. "I dodged it, of course. Her aim was true, but I'm an Assassin, remember? It was easy. We left after that."

Answering Robin's raised eyebrow, she raised her chin slightly. "We only heard about the plot to capture your father when we returned to Themis and were getting ready to set off for Plegia. It was pretty lucky, overhearing that when we had to head over anyway."

Robin mulled it over. "I remember. You had important information for me, being against the king. Why though? You went to Regna Ferox first for a reason before you knew about that plot?"

Chryme looked away. "Yeah, we did. Our sister Emm is, err, a member of the Ylissean clergy. High up. She's in court a lot, and she's sick of seeing the corruption and excesses Marth brings. It's horrible. She asked us to go seek foreign aid in stopping the machinations the king, and I'd do anything for her. 'Course, she's not willing to try outright revolt or rebellion yet. I think she still hopes in his _inner good_ , or something of the sort."

Henry began laughing again. "Really? That's so cool! Is that why you can't sleep well at night, Lissa? I'd be troubled too if one of my siblings had to face a monster like Marth everyday, haha! I don't have any siblings though. Maybe Robin or Tharja or Aversa! Once you've stuck around them long enough, they grow on ya! Oh, that's an idea!"

As Lissa began to sort the conversational mess that was Henry, Robin returned his attention to Chryme. "Three sisters, 'Emm,' Chryme, and Lissa? That sounds familiar, in all honesty… Where have I heard those three names? A book somewhere?"

Chryme's eyes snapped back at Robin and she began hastily explaining. "I-It must be because I'm a great Assassin! Lissa and I ran away from home because our mother died and our father… our father _hated_ Lissa and me. So we ran away from home and became Thieves, and we tried to strike back at... King Marth. We stole from his guards and released his prisoners. Stopped abuses the guards would inflict on the townsfolk, became sort of vigilante heroes. That's our story."

Chryme must have realized how low the mood had gotten, because she visibly attempted to brighten up. "That is, if you're willing to believe the story of a professed Assassin. I am being honest with you though."

Robin laughed. He didn't need a truth hex for this. "No worries Chryme, I believe you. A 'Noble Assassin.' There are stories of heroes like you, you know."

She flinched almost imperceptibly when Robin called her that, but shook it off just as quickly. He attributed it to having done things she wasn't proud of, and didn't ask.

* * *

"Now, young prince, these names will be important to you one day, so remember them. Up north reigns the West-Khan of Regna Ferox, Basilio. The East-Khan is Flavia. To our east, King Marth of Ylisse. His queen has passed, but he has three daughters, even if he only recognizes the first…" - An unnamed instructor, to a very tired Robin.

* * *

Nightfall found them making camp in the scrublands between the desert and the beginnings of the plains that would make up the rest of the landscape before they reached the mountains where the generally agreed upon border had been decided through centuries of warfare.

The men drew the wagons into a rough circle and set up their tents up within. Though it would have been more comfortable, Robin declined a resting spot in the wagons to better connect with the men he was now leading. Yet untested, the prince had to be down-to-earth, even if that meant sleeping on said earth.

It wasn't that hard, at any rate. Robin could get used to this, but... getting up, he stretched and exited his overly grand tent. He wanted to check the perimeters and speak with the sentries. Maybe it would help him sleep.

'And make sure no Plegian cannibals sneak in and eat us,' he thought, faintly amused.

Speaking with Chryme earlier was enlightening. The day before, the four Plegians had discussed the two Ylisseans after the "cheer up party" for Aversa had died down, before they fell asleep. Henry had been the most willing to trust the two right off the bat, and Aversa was more or less neutral, but thought they were trustworthy.

Tharja had no strong opinion of Lissa, but tensed strangely whenever Robin mentioned Chryme. After the third time, Robin had asked her about it directly.

" _I'll never be happy if other girls catch your eye, Robin,"_ she had said. But she had admitted to being willing to trust the girls, having been the one to cast the truth hex in the first place. Robin had uncomfortably ignored the implication Tharja had drawn between him and Chryme.

Robin turned a corner and began a slow patrol of the camp perimeter, stopping to speak with the sentries when he could, getting to know them. He liked feeling connected and invested with those he commanded. He knew that every loss would hit him harder, but Robin thought that it would drive him to better his tactics and fight harder, to keep each unit alive.

Robin completed his roundabout walk, satisfied. The men seemed to be warming to him. Then he felt a shiver pass over him, and he spoke without looking back. "Shouldn't you be asleep, Tharja? It's getting late."

When he received no reply, Robin turned around and met Tharja's eye. His silent companion met his gaze for a long moment, before finally replying. "You're troubled Robin. Leave the smalltalk. Your father is missing, and you're leading a ragtag band of militia into the maw of the enemy. You're the one who should get some rest."

Robin gritted his teeth again and sighed, but it was an empty exclamation. As always, Tharja always knew when Robin was putting on a facade. He didn't try to fight her suggestions.

The rest of the Shepherds having retired earlier, Robin and Tharja took seats around the slowly dying embers of their campfire. With a muted spell, Tharja breathed new life into the flame, roaring to greater heights to stave away the night's chill.

Robin began without preamble, sitting on the dusty ground with knees drawn to his chin. "What if we fail?"

Tharja looked at him. "We won't fail. _You_ won't fail. You're our leader," she said, as though it explained everything, but it rang painfully and hollow in Robin's ears.

Robin let out a low chuckle, but his heart wasn't into it. "I'm not infallible, Tharja." When she continued to look at him as though he hadn't said anything, Robin wracked his brain for an example. "Remember that time we went into the forest together, when we lost that spellbook and couldn't find it? The stuffy Grimleal instructor that kept us from eating until we found it. Do you think I don't remember how hungry you were?"

Robin fidgeted, uncomfortable. "Even if it was a child's grand imagination, I thought myself invincible before that day. I was royalty! I took well to the magic we learned and the sword felt natural in my hand. I had a group of friends my age to play with and I never knew any sort of hardship.

"Until the day when you fainted from hunger and I couldn't stop the tears from my own eyes. Invincible, _hah!_ Imbecile, more like." Robin paused for a moment to gather his thoughts and continue his tirade, but was unable to when Tharja, having risen during the most bitter recollection of Robin's youth, sat down next to him, their legs practically touching. Her hand grasped his, and she let her head fall to rest on his shoulder. It was intimate, but it was how the two of them had once endured the four days of starvation that they had survived together.

Robin let his eyes close as Tharja's soft voice began again. "That was a dark time, yes. I remember being so frantic that first day, realizing that he was serious… the next morning was even worse than anything I could've imagined, and it didn't get better."

Robin scoffed, his free hand's fingers rubbing at one of his eyes. "I couldn't stop you from fainting from hunger, Tharja. I couldn't find a damned book. And yet, you tell me I can save my father from a country filled with people that see us as demons."

Her voice began again, oddly insistent, and Robin opened his eyes to see the reflection of the campfire in Tharja's.

"I starved once for you, Robin. I would starve a thousand times more for you." She stood, black hair framing her pale face, glittering amethysts for eyes. "A lifetime of pain will never come close to matching the happiness you give me. Understand that, for once in your life."

Tharja turned to face the fire, and unbeckoned, Robin stood as well, close enough to be touching. Tharja didn't acknowledge his movement, but after a moment, she began to speak once more.

"If you don't wish to hear the emotional arguments, allow me to convince you with logic. Your father is a valuable hostage. He will face hardship in Ylissean captivity, but it will be nothing compared to what he has endured to become the Mage King. And out of every prisoner to ever exist, he has the fortune of being pursued by you, Robin. Your battle tactics are unbeaten. You have consistently outmaneuvered and outmatched every single one of the generals in the land. Your heart is strong, it will not allow needless deaths. You will preserve as many lives as you can in order to retrieve your father. You can do this. Trust in yourself."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "It is late. Sleep now, and rest your mind. You are burdening yourself needlessly with this worry. Do not hide your inner turmoils from us. All of the Shepherds, even the Ylisseans, are here for you, here because of you. Let us help you."

She was right, of course. Tharja was always his shoulder to cry on. She had a way of knowing what Robin was feeling, what Robin needed to hear.

Finally relenting, Robin allowed himself to be ushered away to his tent, Tharja bidding him goodnight with a wink and assurances of her presence if he needed anything during the night. Robin watched her glide away to her own tent nearby, until finally, alone, Robin retired to his tent and found the sleep that eluded him.

For the first time since his father's disappearance, Robin slept through the night.

* * *

"It's… it's okay, Robin. Stop worrying about me, I'm fine! Serious… Oh Robin, don't cry for me... I'm supposed to cry for you…" - A young Tharja, to a young Robin.

* * *

The next day found Robin feeling much better. The journey continued, Robin more focused after an actual night's sleep. They continued much the same as before, Lissa strangely energetic.

"Do you think Aversa will let me ride her pegasus if I ask?" Lissa was asking no one in particular. The Dark Flier in question was currently scouting ahead, a graceful sight in the sky.

Henry laughed. "Maybe! Aversa always liked her pegasus a lot, but she's really a nice girl! Ask her nicely and I think she will! Haha!" Henry laughed again… and again.

Seeking to put an end to his friend's laughter before he scared off Lissa and their new friendship, Robin hastily interrupted. "Aversa's our resident pegasus expert. She's spent half her life in the saddle, and that's with a conservative estimate. I think she can tell if you have the aptitude. Tharja never really wanted to learn, though." Robin turned to Tharja as he finished speaking. She had been very quiet the previous day, mostly watching their surroundings, and Robin, when she had a moment.

He hadn't thanked her for last night, but Robin felt like he didn't need to. She already knew how grateful he was. Robin was thankful for that too.

Tharja smiled slightly. "I just… didn't feel the need to. The skies were a domain for others. I preferred to keep my feet on the ground." The unsaid and most honest reason, Robin knew, was that taking riding classes and training would have separated her from him.

Lissa pouted. "Really? Why not? Pegasi are _so_ pretty! They're graceful and kind and I always wanted to try riding one, but Father…" Her voice, previously perky, trailed off. She let her face fall into a frown, as if unsure how to finish what she had started saying.

Chryme saved her. "Our father was a right jerk. Like we would've ever had the chance to ride a pegasus with him. Not that running away gave us the chance to join up with the Pegasus Knight Squadron…"

Before Robin could reply, the only pegasus in Robin's caravan landed in front of him. Aversa had been scouting for dangers ahead, and it seemed she had found one.

"There's a group of bandits ahead on the road, just around the next hill. I counted maybe sixty, maybe slightly more. Looked like mostly Myrmidons, a couple of Archers. Had to dodge a couple arrows when they saw me above. We're fine though." Aversa bit her lip. "I didn't see any Taguel with them, so they might not be Ylisseans, but anything's possible."

Robin considered the information. Telling the men to prepare for a possible battle, he halted the caravan and began to plan. The enemy were close, but Robin outnumbered them by two to one. Hopefully they wouldn't realize the majority of the men Robin rode with were untested. He was beginning to realize how unwise he had been.

Still though, bandits were not known for being masters of battle. Even if they were Ylissean, they would have spent the last weeks preying on travelers and farmers, not other soldiers. Combined with their advantage, Robin expected that—

Robin grabbed for his sword when he realized that he hadn't expected them to charge them now, over the hilltop.

"Form up! They've mostly swords, lances to the front! Archers, Mages, stand behind them and aim for the crowd!"

Robin dismounted and grabbed his tome, sending blasts of Thunder into the mass of screaming men pouring over the hill. Next to him, Tharja and Henry did the same. Aversa, choosing not to mount in fear of stray arrows, readied her lance and went to the front.

Even as he prepared another bolt, Robin was puzzled. They were dying for nothing here, before they could even get close. Why?

He realized he hadn't given orders to Chryme and Lissa and turned to them, and then swore. On the other side of road, perhaps ten lightly armored Cavaliers were rushing them from behind, lances already extended.

Chryme had already seen them though, one of her arrows finding its mark between one of the heavy plates, unhorsing him with a scream. Upon seeing them, the Cavaliers changed their course to the front of the caravan, directly to where the Shepherds were.

Robin ran to meet them, sword in hand, Henry and Tharja already readying more magic to heed them off. With Aversa next to him, Robin took a guard position. A sword against a lance from horseback was a recipe for disaster. He couldn't prepare another Thunder though, not at this range. It was too risky. He would have to head them off as long as possible to allow Henry, Tharja, and Chryme to do what they could. Lissa, he noticed errantly, had ran off to heal the men injured against the initial assault.

No more time for stray thoughts. The nine Cavaliers were getting very close now, at any second he would have to do what he could. As he watched, waiting for an opening, the foremost rider took a Thunder blast to the face and toppled off his horse, the man behind him forced to abandon his charge due to the sudden obstacle. The next Cavalier met the same fate, and an arrow struck down another man behind him. That was three down of the nine, one averted, and five more coming, more spread out now.

The first one to reach Robin was speared off his horse by Aversa, her lance ready for the occasion and designed for piercing through armor, even if his momentum had done most of the work. Robin sidestepped the next one at the last moment he could and his blind strike was rewarded with a _thuck_ of steel burying into iron armor.

But the man took his sword with him, and Robin felt the blade as it was wrenched from his hand. His sword gone, Robin ran up and snatched another from the hand of the Cavalier Aversa had slain and turned perfectly, so perfectly, to feel a lance thrust miss his head by inches.

The same Cavalier that had almost slain him continued on to try again at Henry, but the Mage had sidestepped it neatly and followed up with an arc of Thunder that finished off the rider.

Panting at his near death experience, Robin wildly scanned the area to find that the rest of the five Cavaliers seemed to be dead or near it, all unhorsed by magic, arrow, or Aversa's lance.

That was too close. Robin began to walk back to his ranged support, to check up on them and see how the rest of the battle was faring, blood pounding in his ears, but—

"Look out!" Chryme was suddenly there in his face, and suddenly he was on the ground she was on top of him again and she looked pretty, even if there was dirt on her face and she was getting up and swinging her sword—

Robin belated realized it was the Cavallier who had broken off his charge. Robin stood up, in time to watch Chryme duel the man who had dismounted (a very unwise decision, Robin thought).

She was a blur, a master of the blade, Robin realized. Even better than him. Chryme was here and then she was there and then the man had her blade in his gut, his parries too slow and too few to stop her. He collapsed without having made a mark on her, and she began to clean her blade without a second thought.

Robin shivered. If she had wanted him dead that night in Castle Plegia, he would have been dead.

* * *

"When it comes to it, remember that all your enemies are ultimately just men. They lived and breathed as men, they will fight as men, and when you kill them, they will die like men. But I hope you will have little of that." - Mustafa, to Robin.

* * *

Of the men Robin had brought with him, none had died in battle today. There were several casualties, nicks and cuts here, a scrape there, but nothing serious. Considering that the bandits had literally thrown themselves into enemy lances, it was not unexpected.

But the presence of those Cavaliers seemed suspect. They did not wear Ylissean colors or carry with them any orders, but the Shepherds found a campsite perhaps twenty minutes away, capable of housing the eighty-some men they had slain. There, they found extra clothing, but no royal orders or anything that would prove them to be Ylisseans under command to ambush them.

But they had been good, very good. And those ten Cavaliers had targeted Robin the moment they saw him. If they had continued on their original course, they would have been on the undefended side of the caravan and could have slain Robin's Archers from behind; they could have prepared an opening for the men on the other side to follow through in.

Robin knew with some hidden intuition that this was planned, that he had been the target. But there was nothing for them to do but follow through on their mission. His father needed him.

They patched their wounds, buried the enemy in a ditch by the road, and continued on.

* * *

"Don't make me laugh! If you want someone assassinated, _send an Assassin_." - Chryme, reveling in post-battle adrenaline.

* * *

A/N: Hey, and welcome to the second chapter! Important: If you liked the quotes I added this time around, go back and check out the five I added to Chapter One! I feel like they flesh out the story a lot more. I know it's unprofessional to go back and make that change after I began the story, but oh well, whoops!

Also important: I changed the summary. I removed the word "religious" from in "religious war" that I used to have. After more consideration, I realized that wasn't going to happen, not in my current plan for the story. I also mentioned a little more at the end, since I want to take this story further than the summary originally implied. For posterity, I'll leave the old summary at the very end of my Author's Note.

Of course, special thanks to my beta and friend Ducktator! She's a great board for bouncing ideas off, and a lot of her ideas go into me making this story what it is.

 _(Beta's Note: Even though I didn't do anything yo. Anyway, would you readers like to see a Chrobin bodyswap AU anytime soon, bc I'm working on one and I'm kinda conflicted, so holla at me (or Chickens) if you want one. Btw chickens you can call me ducky lmao ducktator makes me uncomfortable i aint hitler yo)_

Now, something I've wanted to do for a long time, yay! Review responses! Ducktator: xd tyyyyy baebae, told you I'd say that. | Guest: Thank you for your kind words, they mean a lot to me! I hope my beta doesn't get mad, but you're my first review and I'll treasure your words always! That being said, I don't think I'm going to go down the harem route, sorry! It's an idea for another fic though, that's for sure… | Ethereal780: I think genderbent Chrom has potential, but I've never seen one before. Let me know if you find any good ones! | Gunlord500: Thank you! I have a lot more planned to keep the story a twist on the events of the games. | Cormag Ravenstaff: Yeah, I understand what you mean. I thought the same, but I ended up just thinking "heck, Chrom trusts Robin in game way too quickly too" and went with it. Lazy, I know, but I like the parallel! I'm going to try and keep the story a strange parallel to the game's events. | Muggzy: You're the one I was the most worried about replying to, after I removed the "religious" from the summary. Sorry if you really wanted a reenactment of Chrom's dad's crusade from the game! It probably won't happen now, I didn't mean to mislead you! I hope my explanation of their religious differences sufficed, but it might not come up again.

Last but not least, thank you Garben the Berserker! That paragraph of Robin explaining what Plegia believes exists _entirely_ because of you! Not entirely to the game's canon of course, but I'll keep what you said in mind!

(Old) Summary: In a strange reversal of fates, Ylisse, under the rule of the vain and self-styled King Marth, begins a religious war of aggression against Plegia. Enter Robin, Prince of Plegia, Mage Almighty, Swordsman Extraordinaire. With a knack for changing fates, Robin must captain his own band of soldiers to combat this threat. And where is Chrom in all this? AU fem!Chrom

* * *

Andddddd OMAKE! Of a certain line with a certain word that my beta and I puzzled over for a while:

* * *

"Stupid men make a stupid leader, so you better find some really smart, normal men for your army. Also, tall people work really well. And they can dunk really well." - Robin's tactical guidebook.

* * *

What felt like ages later had the Shepherds beginning their journey to Ylisse, accompanied by a hundred _*odd*_ men loyal to the king and a caravan of ten wagons carrying gold within.

Robin was mostly confused. A hundred odd men. Had he conscripted the entire eccentric soldier department of the army? Watching them march, Robin raised an eyebrow as one man was vigorously speaking to the man next to him while waving his arms in the air. He smacked the man next to him in the face.

The man who had been hit merely began to softly rub the area hit, crooning over himself. Robin shivered and turned away. He should have taken normal soldiers.

* * *

"Robin, what if your father was never actually taken for ransom? He could be playing hide and seek with you _right now!_ YOU'RE LOSING SO HARD ROBIN, GO LOOK FOR HIM NOW!" - Henry, to Robin.

* * *

"Form up! They've mostly swords, lances to the front! Archers, Mages, stand behind them and aim for the crowd!"

Robin dismounted and grabbed his tome—but stopped short. His men were readying their lances, yes, but most of them were trying to do an intricate dance with them. Even as Robin watched incredulously, the enemy forces began to draw to a halt, perturbed.

One of Robin's more excitable soldiers extended a hand to an enemy Myrmidon, and the man took it. The two began to waltz, and Robin dimly registered his tome falling from his hand as the two forces began to dance marvelously. Next to him, Lissa began to cheer and Tharja began to critique their form.

What. The. Fuck?

* * *

"You know, I proposed to your mother once. She rejected me. Looking back, I probably shouldn't have ripped a loud fart at that exact moment... At least I enjoyed it." - Gangrel, to a disgusted Robin.


	3. Chapter 3: Halcyon Days to Dusk

Summary: In a strange reversal of fates, Ylisse, ruled by the vain and self-styled King Marth, begins a war of aggression against Plegia. Enter Robin, Prince of Plegia, Mage Almighty, Swordsman Extraordinaire. With a knack for changing fates, Robin must captain his own band of soldiers to combat this threat, even as more trouble brews unseen. And where is Chrom in all this? AU fem!Chrom

* * *

Chapter 3: Halcyon Days to Dusk

* * *

"...I know you want another child, Validar, but I'm scared... We both know what the mark on his hand means. I'm scared to bring another child into this world, scared to curse another baby with a fate doomed to greatness… a fate doomed to great pain. I love our son, but I know already that I may regret bringing him into this world if he will only suffer in it. So please, no more children..." - Morgana, to Validar.

* * *

When they were about three hours away from the border and agreed-upon meeting area, Robin had the men make camp, even if they could have arrived before nightfall.

"I want us all well-rested and prepared tomorrow. We may be under a truce now, but I won't rely on that. I'm not saying that we'll be attacked tomorrow, but our previous battle may have only ended without fatalities due to Grima's will. That's not something to count on."

After an explanation of formation for tomorrow, Robin dismissed the men and turned around.

"Grima below! _What are you doing?_ " Chryme had snuck up behind him. He hoped his shriek went unnoticed by his soldiers. A quick scan of the area reassured him.

Chryme, however, leaned in, eyes oddly insistent on meeting his own. Robin shivered as she continued her stare. Even if Tharja spent most of her time sneaking touches of him, he was still unnerved by the presence of an attractive female close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss, if he just leaned in a bit—

When she finally returned to a respectable distance, her eyes still boring into his. As she began to speak, her voice was initially calm, slowly rising with excitement as she went on. "I just find it strange, that a commander would give such disheartening news to his soldiers. Morale is important, wouldn't it be better to assure them of victory? Inspire your troops to greater deeds, lead an unstoppable force across the land, doing away with the enemies of your people! _All because you were leading the charge, you_ —"

Chryme's voice, having reached a crescendo of exultation, died off suddenly as she flushed scarlet, hands clasping upon her mouth to stop the advice she was giving Robin that had quickly began to turn into, as Robin suspected, her own desires.

Breathing evenly in an attempt to calm herself, Chryme took Robin's mostly suppressed grin as a signal to continue.

"I-It's just that, after that battle by the road, you seemed really intent on making sure all the men were alright, but then just warned us of more possible ambushes. It wouldn't hurt to praise the men a little, would it?"

Robin's smile faded, and he let out a low laugh. "Yeah, I guess I could do positive reinforcement. It's just that, I'm not only the face of this mission, but also the mastermind. I'm leading these men, many of them almost only boys who joined up for the steady pay, or retired veterans that were called back under my banner. I'm responsible for all of them. Every nick and scrape, I feel them. Grima forbid that I return to tell a mother that I killed her son on a fool's errand—"

His voice broke, and Robin bowed his head. If Chryme disagreed with the face he showed his soldiers, she'd definitely laugh at him now. He hadn't meant to show her that.

Before Robin could make a tactical retreat (read: runaway), he felt a hand reach out and caress his face. His eyes opened, half-expecting to see Tharja's visage before him the gesture so like her, but he was wrong.

Chryme was still there… and was that a sympathetic look on her face?

"It's okay Robin, I understand," she laughed softly, a radiant smile briefly dazzling him out of his fugue. "I didn't mean to insult you, or make light of your burdens. If anything happens tomorrow, we'll win. I'm sure of it."

She grinned at him, as though about to say more, but then—

"I know right?!" Lissa sudden, bright voice made the two of them both jump, Chryme's hand whipping away from Robin's face. Both of them were tinged red and the look on Lissa's face was coy.

She laughed. "Sooo, what were you two up to? Are we praising our leader's valiant efforts? Count me in!" Lissa, in a blur of motion that eluded even Robin's trained eyes, latched onto his right arm and brought herself close, eyes twinkling mischievously.

Before Chryme could make a response to Lissa's challenging stare, Henry appeared and latched onto Robin's left arm. "Hahaha! This is fun!"

"Get off me!" Robin yelped. Lissa and Henry met eyes for a split second and then, in unison, pulled down Robin with their combined weights. Lissa, in a maneuver fitting of a Trickster, swept her leg at Chryme while she did, and Chryme, unsuspecting and unready, toppled to the floor as well.

Robin, overwhelmed and outnumbered, surrendered. He began to laugh, his merriment joining in with Lissa's and Henry's. Chryme, exasperated, shortly gave in after, but then reached forward and smacked Lissa.

"Ow! Hey! Are you mad I interrupted your _alone time_ with our amazing leader?"

Unprepared for Lissa's implication, Chryme sputtered and, for the lack of a clever response, smacked Lissa again.

Frowning and rubbing at her head, Lissa returned her attention to Robin as she got up, brushing herself off. "Feel better Robin! We'll be fine tomorrow! Come on Henry," she said aside. "Let's find that crow! He can't have gone far!"

"Hahaha, okay!"

The two dashed off and Robin sighed, still on the ground. Those two had been mostly inseparable since the Shepherds had formed. They were a whirlwind of destruction, storming in and blowing out. Robin had to admit, though, their ploy had worked. He did feel better.

Chryme flashed him another grin before she vaulted up herself and sped off, yelling something about archery practice before dinner. Robin remained on the ground for a moment then slowly stood up.

"You know Robin—" But Aversa was cut off, due to Robin springing away from her, panicked once more. For all the "help" he was getting from his friends, they were also doing quite well at scaring him to death.

Aversa laughed. "If we're all going to be doing some practicing before tomorrow, show me how to do that fancy trick you always do with the Elthunder tome."

Already having lost face, Robin meekly agreed. The two left the camp to reach a respectable distance away from the tents. There, Tharja had already shorn the grass down with a keen wind spell.

Surprisingly, Lissa and Henry were there. Robin expected that they would have found a quiet tent somewhere together, alone—Robin mentally reprimanded himself. He really needed to control where his mind roamed. As tactician, lives depended on him to not get distracted by what his friends were getting up to.

Despite that, Robin quirked a smile at the antics of the couple in question. They were cute together.

"I told you already! I _can_ use a sword," Lissa was saying. "It's just not the best weapon for me! Teach me some magic! I can use staves, I have the aptitude!" Lissa's personality managed to turn the whining into a sort of cheerful begging. Henry, Robin noted, didn't stand a chance.

As Henry began to instruct Lissa on the very basics of a Fire tome, Robin turned to the two female Plegians, where Aversa was waiting impatiently.

"So, about that Elthunder trick. I know it's supposed to just be a single bolt, but you split it into two. How?"

Robin grinned sheepishly. He had managed to channel the spell into two separate, weaker blasts in the same spell. The weaker nature of each bolt was a concern, but most enemies versed in anti-Mage combat wouldn't be expecting a dual attack from an Elthunder tome.

Wordlessly, Robin offered his own spellbook to the two ladies. Open to its exact center, Robin had fitted a small paper bookmark separating the two halves of the book. Inscribed on both sides of the bookmark was a solid, circumscribed pentagon, a rune for magic negation. Surrounding it was a circle composed of smaller wave marks, each crossed by a vertical line. Runes for magic flow.

Aversa, eyes tracing the small paper slip, frowned. "Those marks are almost contradictory, but... The negation rune would normally nullify the spell, but now it's what breaks the spell into two bolts—and the flow runes preserve the integrity of the spell? Amazing... But where does the twinned spell go? I don't see where the magic would be released... And how doesn't this consume two pages of the book?" Spellbooks used their own pages for magical fuel, the writing consuming the paper they were written on as they converted the magical aptitude of the caster into elemental fury. Once expended, it wasn't uncommon for the bindings and cover to be recycled with fresh pages into a new, whole tome.

Robin grinned again now, feeling playful, his earlier dark mood untraceable due to his pride at his developed magical theory. "Those are some questions, 'Versa. In order then," Robin said, eager to share the fruits of his labors.

"The twinned spell goes here," he continued, pointing to his right hand, where another circle of flow runes were written on his palm. "I can expel the magic from here, aim it differently than the original bolt." Robin paused, reluctantly showing the other side of his hand to his two students (four now, Henry and Lissa had ceased their flirting-training to see what Robin had to say).

"The... The Mark doesn't have anything to do with it, far as I know. We can test it in a bit."

Lissa stared at the eyes adorning the back of Robin's hand. "The Mark?"

The four Plegians flushed slightly, having forgot their fifth companion was a Ylissean. Robin dropped his hand. "It's like the Ylissean Brand of the Exalt, except for the Plegian royal family."

At that, Lissa flinched. Eager to get away from the touchy subject, Robin continued his lecture. "The spell doesn't consume a whole page because I have negation and flow runes on both sides of the bookmark. Instead of burning a page from the front of the book as normal, the bookmark draws on the two halves of the book and uses the book from the inside-out. Specifically, half a page from each side at a time."

Lissa hummed, impressed. Henry let out a low whistle. "That really is smart! But it's too advanced for you, Lissa. Let's get back to the basics!" Henry lead the girl away, but Robin heard her next question anyway, given their proximity.

"Is that really so complex? No offense or anything! ...But it seemed pretty simple. All those Mage-scholars and not one developed anything like that?"

As Henry began to explain, Robin closed his eyes, aware that Tharja was remembering too. The Mage-scholars were strict adherents to the established way, citing possible danger in change as reason for their continued stagnation. 'Deviation,' Robin thought bitterly, 'was met with Discipline.'

Aversa, conscious of her two friends' inner turmoil, clasped Robin on the back. "Let's try that trick then, shall we? Help me draw the flow runes, I never did get comfortable with left-handed writing."

Grateful for the break in dark memories, Robin complied. Taking Aversa's right hand in his left, he began to gently ink the rune circle onto her palm. A lot of care went into this, the runes having to be precise in order to function optimally. Even a small mistake could prove disastrous.

The trio clustered together now, Aversa took a small sidelong glance at Henry, who was amply distracting Lissa. Satisfied with her lack of attention, she looked at Robin. "Are you sure it's safe to have runes on the skin? I know you've done it already, but we were warned…"

Tharja nudged Aversa. "I think it's fine. We've magic in our veins already, using our body to redirect it shouldn't be any worse. Besides, the paper is what's being consumed for the spell, not us—"

Robin coughed. "Aversa, it's fine. I understand why you're worried, but you don't need to be. I've done it enough already, each time exactly two halves of a page were consumed."

Finished with the rune circle, Robin handed Aversa the Elthunder tome and she took it without hesitation. He brought the brush to Tharja's waiting hand. Robin began to draw the circle as Aversa, reassured by her two fellow practitioners of magic, began to hex together more bundles of grass.

"Oh Robin, you haven't held my hand in so long..." He glanced up away from her hand to her face. A warm blush suffused her cheeks, bringing Robin's own to mimic hers. Robin shook his head. Tharja was a shameless flirt when it came to him. Sometimes he didn't mind.

Tharja giggled as though reading his mind. "You could stand to hold me closer…" She moved slightly forward, bringing herself flush to him.

Okay, sometimes he didn't mind, and this was _not_ one of those times. Robin felt the wave of ickiness that he had mentally labeled as "Tharja's affection." He felt bad calling it that, considering this was his closest friend he was considering, but there really was no other name for it. And about confronting her feelings… An unbidden image of Chryme's face— _those azure eyes, how could they be so blue?_ —leapt into his mind. Before Robin could even begin to consider the implications, he mentally stowed away all that romantic baggage.

'You're a coward,' he thought, cursing himself. ' _I'm_ a coward.'

But he couldn't deal with this now.

Quickly finishing the circle of runes, Robin hastily stowed away the brush in a pocket and handed Tharja a pre-prepared bookmark. She slid it into a waiting Elwind tome, a quick glance at Robin, the previous mood gone now. It was as if Tharja could read his mind, but considering he had just been thinking of Chryme and Tharja had not assumed her customary scowl, she hadn't.

He shrugged. "I haven't tried anything other than Elthunder, but the theory says it should work. It'll be risky though."

Turning to one of the hexed bundles of grass, Tharja began to channel herself through the tome. Robin watched her anxiously, eyes flickering between her figure and her tome. It was unlikely that anything adverse would happen, but it paid to be cautious.

Tharja, her hair beginning to float upwards due to the sheer volume of magical power thrumming in the air, raised her right hand, her left clutching the green spellbook. Power began to gather in front of her held tome, air congealing into a turquoise turbulence, rotating with its own ethereal rage. Likewise, held as though a bubble, a twin tempest of magic was furiously coming to form above her right hand.

Gesturing slightly, Tharja urged both of the spells forward, whirling air taking the shape of green blades, cutting through the gentle breeze, and impacting on the grass targets. Held together by a hex, the first bundle exploded as the Elwind blast dissipated, flinging grass stalks around the clearing. Behind, the second grass target was clipped by the spell aimed at it, part of it shorn, the rest sent spinning.

Henry, having paused his instruction to watch the test, began to laugh as Lissa appreciated the handiwork from the sidelines.

Aversa let out a low whistle, a grin spreading on her face. "Now that's something I want to try." She hexed together another two bales of grass while smoothing the pages of the open tome.

Robin, smiling with success as well, turned to the Dark Mage, but found a slight frown on her face. Tharja looked at him.

"I missed. I wanted to hit them both dead-on. Guess it'll take more practice."

At that, Robin stopped short. He hadn't considered that.

"I see. Everyone," he said, turning to address them. "I don't mind if you fiddle around with this a bit more, but my orders from before still stand. Get an early night and don't tax yourselves unnecessarily now. We have to be ready for anything tomorrow."

The Mages and Lissa agreed readily, understanding the wisdom (even if Henry looked put out to not being able to kill with _twice_ the efficiency).

Robin, satisfied with the results of the trial run and confident in the Shepherds' ability to follow his orders for rest, left to find the last member who hadn't been present.

* * *

"Always be wary of a woman armed. Men? We engage in honorable combat, while those of the fairer sex tend to be more _creative_ … Cease your complaints, son, magic _is_ honorable combat." - Validar, to Robin.

* * *

It wasn't too hard to find her, considering the flatness of the plains. On the other side of the wagon circle was Chryme, sending arrow after arrow into a wooden shield she had propped up against a rock.

Her aim was good. Robin winced as the shield took a shot too many and toppled over. As he walked up, she spoke, eyes not leaving her target as she drew back the bow once more.

"Hey there, Robin. I hope Lissa's not giving you too much trouble." Chryme's next arrow struck the shield dead center, and she began to knock another arrow to the string.

Robin gave a rueful smile. "She's no trouble, just curious about learning to use a tome. Henry's the one teaching her a bit." He stopped near her, clearing his throat as she took her aim. "I told them not to stay out too long. Same goes for you, try and get some rest, alright? That poor shield has taken enough of a beating."

Chryme gave him a mockingly frustrated glance before loosing the arrow as she threw her head back, laughing. Robin hadn't noticed before, but that was a sound he could get used to, it had a certain melody to it that was more reserved than Lissa's bright laughter—Robin swore mentally, and told himself he was talking about the sound of the arrow impacting into the fallen shield again.

Chryme, eyeing the final arrow she fired, began to unstring her bow, glancing at Robin now. "Very well, Captain! I'll make haste to rest easy and relax the dying day away!"

Robin grimaced. "That's an _order_ , soldier. Double time, or else I'll have you in bed and fast—"

Robin had meant to say "and fast asleep before you know it," but the unintended meaning of what he was saying caught up to him first. Chryme hadn't missed it either.

Her eyebrows rose incredulously, a quick retort coming to her tongue, but then paused. She blushed, a lukewarm haze across her cheeks. She closed her mouth, still staring dumbly at Robin, waiting for him to correct himself.

Robin choked, intensely aware of the Assassin's patient gaze. This was awkward. Perhaps the most awkward moment of Robin's young life… Wait, there was that time when Tharja had—

This was awkward. Perhaps the second most awkward moment of Robin's young life.

"I, err, didn't mean to…" clammered Robin, vividly feeling Chryme's blank stare. Giving up the struggle to find the words, Robin smacked himself. "Sorry," he said.

"It's okay," Chryme said, her face tinged only slightly pink now. "It happens. Shall we head back?" Without waiting for an answer, she reached into one of her packs, she popped a candy into her mouth, her movements stiff. Given her body language, she was about to head back regardless, preparations complete. Meekly, Robin followed her back to camp, where he made haste in sleeping.

But despite all his efforts, his slip of the tongue and the looming prospect of trouble in negotiating for his father made sleep a long time coming.

* * *

"Your son is definitely capable, your Majesty. He understands what we teach him, but he has been too coddled... He is inexperienced and indecisive, a leader yet unready to lead..." - A royal tutor, to Validar.

* * *

A sense of pervasive nervousness clouded the column as Robin and his guard neared the meeting point, following the worn road through the sparse trees. Morning preparations had consisted of a brief breakfast of bread and cheese and muted shouts as Robin's men readied themselves.

Robin watched as they continued onward, minute puffs of dust rising in their wake. It was a chilling premonition, but he suspected that many would not make it back.

As though understanding what was going through Robin's mind, Tharja brought her horse closer to his, meeting his eye.

"Robin, remember what we told you. It will be fine. We trust you," she said.

At that, Robin flashed her a brief smile and sighed. He did not think it would be fine, but he was here now, and he had to see this through.

As they progressed, Robin knew Ylissean Pegasus Knights were watching, flying far above them and very distantly. Nothing could be done about them, but Robin wasn't coming here without any tricks up his sleeve either. In truth, the meeting spot was slightly in the Plegian side of the border. Robin, having written ahead, had already alerted the border guard captains and their Wyvern Knight squadrons to prepare to help if needed.

Robin, hyperaware of the watchful eyes of the Pegasus Knights above him, and the nervous eyes that would flicker to him from his own men, and the worried ones of Tharja beside him, began to steady his breathing.

They were almost there. Robin had a strong elite guard of the Shepherds, and enough men to present a strong show of arms. He would get his father back.

As they continued to head up, passing more and more craggy trees, Robin covertly signaled the Shepherds around him closer, last-minute instructions forming in his head as he did so.

Aversa was absent from this impromptu strategy meeting, being their vanguard and watching the opposing Pegasus Knights carefully. Robin would have to fill her in later. Robin looked each of the Shepherds in the eyes briefly before beginning, lingering only slightly on Tharja's, whose purple eyes caught his, and Chryme's, whose eyes were somewhat steely. Robin hadn't explained his communication failure to her yet, but there was no time for it now.

"Within several minutes, we should be facing down Marth and his ilk, if he really is going to meet us here. The area here is rocky and coarse, but any Ylissean riders should be able to outmaneuver us regardless, so we'll have to be ready to head them off if they try to break our line. The main objective is, remember, to save my father. If we can get him and get out, we're getting out. We aren't ready for a real engagement."

In truth, Robin was only reiterating what he had said previously to them when they first started out this morning, but they all nodded solemnly (except Henry, whose wide smile had not faded). Perhaps Robin didn't have to call Aversa back in. Maybe he could stop worrying, maybe they would be fine—

They were here. The mountain pass turned narrow, sparse tree cover falling away to leave only the wide dirt road, steep sloping mountains on either side. On the far side of the area was, in the flesh, King Marth of Ylisse, the Exalted of Naga.

* * *

"The Taguel are a proud race. Being able to shift from beast and human form at will, they live in communal warrens and are a highly sociable race. They are very territorial and will not hesitant to protect their warren when threatened…" - An unnamed instructor, to Robin.

* * *

"Ahh, Prince Robin! I trust you had a calm journey here!" Marth's voice was loud and regal, befitting of a king. It echoed down the path to Robin, where he slowly rode his house to the lead. Acting on his orders, the men formed ranks behind him, weapons close at hand. Of the Shepherds, Robin had Henry and Tharja on either side of him, still mounted. In the crowd, Lissa and Chryme were still incognito, having insisted on hiding from Marth. Aversa was flying idly above the main contingent of soldiers, watching the Pegasus Knights above Marth.

Through force of will, Robin prevented a frown from appearing on his face at Marth's words. So he had ordered a unit of Cavaliers to hunt him down.

Keeping his face impassive still, Robin replied. "It was not without its hardships, King Marth. Still, life is not without its journeys."

Marth, astride a pure white stallion, threw his head back as he laughed. The king was a tall, built man, sinewy muscles built from years of training and battle hidden under the blue regalia of his position. He was not armed, but he did not need to be. Flanking Marth were several Paladins.

Marth, having his share of idle merriment, returned his gaze to Robin, his eyes cold. "Yes, yes. I'd love to exchange more pleasantries with you, but let us cut to the chase. Where is the gold?"

Robin wasn't the most versed in hostage exchange, but he knew the basics. "I have it. Where are they?" Never pay first without insurance.

Marth's demeanour became even more chilly (Robin hadn't even realized it was possible), but signaled to his men. Several Ylisseans parted to reveal a wheeled cage. Inside was, to Robin's immense relief, his father, uncle, and cousin. The two men were unconscious, but seemed unharmed. Camparia was shaking them, trying to rouse them, to no success.

The cage was drawn not by horses, but by two beast-form Taguel, straining at their chains. Linked side by side, it was evident the one on the left was dying, on its last legs. Ever the champion of the underdog, Robin was not surprised to see his cousin Camparia eyeing the Taguel with mourning eyes, having given up on her father and uncle regaining their wits. Robin assumed they were drugged, to make the process easier.

"Where is the gold? I will not repeat myself again." Marth was not hesitating to cut to the chase.

Conscious that he would not be able to communicate with his father or uncle at this distance, Robin had to make due with the fact that they appeared unharmed. His father would get a stern talking to once this was all over.

That is, if it went down without a hitch.

Robin gestured behind him, where the wagons were in plain sight, and Marth smiled.

"I will save you the trouble of harsh negotiation, young prince. Let us agree to a simultaneous exchange. I know you lack the bargaining power, so this is rather gracious of me."

Robin gritted his teeth, but agreed. This was not the time for bravado.

Keeping in mind the signal for reinforcements should things go awry, Robin watched as the two Taguel pulled at their burden, the leading one strangely impassive, while the second, smaller one lurched and choked at the collar, breathing harsh and unsteady.

It was a pitiful sight. Marth was a right bastard, to have a young Taguel in such conditions. Slave-warriors were a deplorable thing, but to use their children as beasts of burden?

The young one began to cough up blood, and finally, as though a mercy blow, the Taguel collapsed in the dirt, still being dragged along by its steady kin, the latter unmoved by the tragedy.

Robin would have acted, indignantly, when the the cage suddenly became blocked from view by the wagons he had sent, filled with gold.

It was at that moment when Robin realized something was wrong. He had been watching the younger Taguel the whole time. It was a trick, playing on his compassion.

A horn sounded as from above, several arrows impacted in the dirt around Robin, narrowly missing. A beastial roar came from the Ylisseans as the ambush began.

His horse panicking, Robin frantically began to try and save the situation. "Men, at arms! Prepare for battle!"

The signal. Robin had to send the signal! Fumbling the scrunched up slip of paper he had been palming the entire time, he began to push magical force through the page, the Arcfire spell charging. Into the air, _he had to get the signal off_ —

Cavaliers, so many Cavaliers swept into the wagon at all sides, butchering its handlers as from above, Pegasus Knights soared in, javelins flying into Robin's formation. Aversa, one against many, was being chased at all angles, blasting Wind magic in a desperate attempt to stave off her pursuers.

—Robin fumbled the paper, raising his arm to the sky, jostled by the struggling horse underneath him as he tried to picture the plume of Arcfire that would bring in the Wyvern Knights he needed. Around him, his men died as arrow and javelin alike found flesh, while more and more Ylisseans charged them.

But before he could ignite the spell, the source of the roar from earlier was clear. The wagons were gone now, spirited away by the Cavalier. Revealed once more was the cage, handlers releasing the two Taguel as they began to bring back the cage, its royal contents still held within.

Free now, the first Taguel was charging Robin, eyes exuding red fury as it closed the gap, mind long lost to Ylissean methods. It seemed they had managed to turn the Taguel into the beasts Ylisse believed them to be.

Robin, struggling to process all the happenings of the past seconds, aimed the Arcfire at the rampaging Taguel. Reinforcements would be useless if he died. He let go the spell, fire belching from his palm as it struck out with a fury.

The Taguel dodged, barreling forward with undiminished rage as Robin watched in slow motion as the fiery gust clipped the side of the cage, incinerating a Paladin tasked to recover the Plegian royals. Dimly, as Camparia tumbled out of the cage through the hole Robin created, he realized he was not going to get his father back. Marth had outwitted him the whole time.

But there was no time to dwell on that now. Marth must have decided to do away with Robin now, that it was better to extort more money from the Plegian nobles, as the Taguel slashed and slew Robin's horse from underneath him with a single swipe of its claws.

Robin smashed into the ground, dust filling his mouth and nose as he watched the Taguel loom above. But before the Taguel could make the final blow, a bolt of angry magic caught it in the chest, blasting it away. Tharja, always looking out for him.

Coughing, Robin was lifted up by his two guards as Chryme and Lissa dashed up to him, Lissa with her staff already trying to heal him.

Robin choked as he tried to give orders. "S-stop! I'm fine!" He coughed, drawing his sword as he briefly scanned the area. It had only been twenty seconds since the second Taguel had collapsed in the dust, yet so much had happened.

Tharja's face was thrust into his view. "Robin, shall we use them? This is an ancient battlefield, we could—"

Robin coughed again, shaking his head furiously. "No, there's no time and no guarantee. Tharja, send up another signal! Everyone else, come! We need to push the Ylisseans off us! We have to forget the mission, survival is all that matters right now!" It sounded callous, but Robin had realized Marth had left already, gone with the bulk of his royal guard, the cage and caravan rapidly shrinking in the distance.

Henry and Lissa dashed off to help fight off the rearguard left to delay them. Tharja was wordlessly obeying, preparing the Arcfire blast and Chryme was—

Chryme was swinging her sword at the Taguel that had returned, having shrugged off the magic like nothing. Robin, sword drawn as well, threw himself at it as well. If Tharja was interrupted, they would likely die here, the Ylisseans too many and too skilled to win against with Robin's ragtag band of warriors.

Chryme was by his side, and their two swords worked in tandem, one striking while another blocked sharp claws, one lunging while the other turned aside the maelstrom of death that was the berserking Taguel.

Robin had never fought a Taguel before, and judging by the desperation on Chryme's face, she hadn't either.

It was close, too close. Robin, ever the Tactician, noticed errantly as he fought that despite Henry's magic and Lissa's quick blade, the men he had enlisted were dying to the Ylisseans. And now, he was going to die to this Taguel and everything he strived for would be for naught.

It went on. As the battle raged around him, Robin and Chryme found themselves locked in a struggle to survive against a juggernaut of pure muscle and madness. Robin wasn't sure how long it lasted. Time became meaningless, Robin's existence culminated into only the instinct of when to block and and when to dodge, when to slash and when to stab. Dimly, Robin knew his men were dying around him, but he was powerless to do anything or else risk suffering the same fate.

Then, a particularly vicious strike snapped Robin's steel blade in two, and he tossed aside the useless handle as he fumbled for a spellbook. Somehow, the Taguel had managed to get between him and Chryme, and her blade seemed to draw only minor nicks and cuts against the Taguel's back.

Robin stared down the Taguel as it leapt at him, red eyes flashing in triumph. Strange. Robin had assumed it would not be sentient, given its single-minded ferocity.

"Robin!" Someone cried as the Taguel lunged, claws extended and aimed for his gut. The spellbook was in his hands now, but it was too late to ready a spell. In just a moment, those claws would be buried in him.

He waited for the moment to pass, but watched instead as another pair of claws seemed to materialize out of thin air from the right and smashed against the side of the Taguel, pushing it down and away. The claws that would have removed Robin's bowels from his body drifted away from the space they occupied earlier, only inches from finishing the job.

It was the other Taguel, wrestling for dominance while trying to communicate, it seemed. Robin half-expected to hear growls, but instead the voice was distinctly human, if not a bit deeper than he might have expected.

"Yarne, stop! These aren't the humans that attacked our warren! Brother, please!" The voice was distinctly feminine, pleading. The smaller Taguel morphed back into humanoid form, a soft white light enveloping her. She, for this was definitely a she, was the first Taguel Robin had seen in human form. Previous experiences were comprised of glimpsing slave-warriors in Ylisseans detachments.

The first Taguel (Yarne was his name, Robin supposed) ceased his furious assault, and stared the female in the eyes as she grasped him by the sides of the face, his glowing red eyes boring into the girl's own.

"Panne. I thought you died." Paused, Yarne morphed back into his upright form as well. This time, Robin noticed, was different color, not the pure snowy shade of white, but a rather sickly yellow. His transition complete, Yarne stood unsteadily for several seconds, dozens of scratches across his body courtesy of Robin and Chryme, and more curiously, deep bruises as well.

The Taguel staggered once, then fell into his kin's arms, lowered to the ground. His eyes, previously flinty, turned soft as he stared at Panne (as that was her name, Robin noticed).

"I thought you lost, sister. When the man-spawn attacked our warren, I knew you didn't make it out in time. I struggled against their lances and their chains for so long, that I might have seen you flee when you could…" His voice trailed off. Despite the sheer skill in battle he had demonstrated only moments prior, his voice was tender, filled only with gentleness.

Panne, tears in her eyes, clasped her hand with his. "I was captured, behind you and made to follow in your footsteps in chains as they lead us away from our home. I called to you so many times and yet, you would never answer…"

Yarne began to cough, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. "Their drugs… The man-spawn forced a foul concoction into me… I lived as if in a haze." Yarne coughed even harder, as though the mention of the drug was amplifying the effects it was having on him. "I heard your voice a dozen times, and yet I could never find its source. Oh, sister… If only we could have lived in peace…"

His eyes began to droop, his breathing slowed. And no matter how hard Panne shook him, no matter how loud she cried for him, Yarne did not open his eyes again.

* * *

"Dearest Panne, listen to me. The man-spawn are coming and we must flee. I will go out first and distract them while you run when they are not looking. I will follow when you are far enough away—Don't argue with me now! Our parents put me in charge of you, and I won't let my little sister be hurt. Now get ready, _they're here_." - Yarne, to Panne.

* * *

That day, Robin lived through several tragedies.

Robin had failed. His father and uncle were still in Ylissean custody. The gold, long gone, was of little importance. It was blood that mattered.

And Robin had spilled a lot of blood, most of it Plegian. Reinforcements never arrived. Of his hundred soldiers, eighty-three died in pointless battle, unable to retreat without their commander and slaughtered by Ylisseans from all angles. Of the seventeen that survived the initial onslaught, fourteen men succumbed to their wounds shortly after. The remaining three died in the night. The Shepherds failed their sheep, lead them to the wolf's den for the taking. Robin was a failure, he had led them to their deaths. Even if only a handful of Ylisseans survived the battle, a testimony to Plegian defiance to the last man, Robin weighed each of their deaths against his own soul, and found his lacking.

After witnessing Yarne's last moments, Robin and Chryme were forced to return to the battle, the remaining Ylisseans falling upon them. Thanking Grima for small mercies, Robin had found each of the Shepherds alive (if not well) after the battle had finally concluded.

The most fortunate news of the day was that Camparia had managed to escape, and Marth had not deemed her worthy of recapture. Freed by Robin's erratic spell, she had been stunned, but once she recovered her senses, she tended to Panne who lay dying in the dirt only several feet away. If not for that chance coincidence, Robin would be among those in the dirt.

That was all Robin had to be thankful for. As they made camp that night, he stared at the muddy battlefield, dirt flooded by the life blood of his men, and he wept.

* * *

"Lord Grima, hear my prayer. Please watch over my son as he marches off to war. May your scales be his shield in battle. May your claws be his blade to defeat his enemies. And Lord Grima... May your wings bring my son safely back to me, safe and sound." - Traditional Plegian Mother's Prayer.

* * *

A/N: Hi, I'm not dead! I know there was only a week between Chapters 1 and 2, and then I took like two months to come out with this chapter. Super sorry, wasn't my intention, but I just started college and that was a major change in my life, among other things. Every time I got an email about a new fav/follow, I felt super guilty, so don't worry, you guys shamed me into posting the next chapter.

Now, about the chapter. This is my headcanon about how magic works in game. It kinda follows along with how magic tomes degrade in game. Basically, books are inscribed with magic power held in the runes that mark the pages, then the pages themselves are consumed as the spell is cast each time, releasing the latent magic. Robin is just doing some fancy stuff with how it's being discharged. If you have any problems with that, feel free to let me know.

Also, no Beaststones. They never really made sense to me. Just how the cookie crumbles.

As always, special super duper thanks to my beta, Ducky! Without her "i would be lost and like dead even though we wasted like 4 hours skyping because lmao." Still though, it was worth it.

Note: Chickens is a frockn scroob frockn fote me 1v1 irl xd

And now, Review Responses! Even if everyone who was kind enough to leave one probably forgot about this story and what they said! Yay! Cormag Ravenstaff: Yeah, I have to tread a fine line, I like to think I know what I'm doing though. Here's to hoping I can do this correctly. Ultimate Black Ace: Honestly, your review showed me a lot of issues in my story, and I'm super grateful for that. Thank you so much. I'll definitely try and consider the ramifications of what I'm doing with things. I did mess up with Robin and Tharja's interactions in the first two chapters, I didn't realize what I was doing exactly. Hopefully the little scene I put in between the two of them here explained how I want their dynamic to be. Everything else will hopefully come up later! Thanks again!


	4. Chapter 4: Lost and Found

Summary: In a strange reversal of fates, Ylisse, ruled by the vain and self-styled King Marth, begins a war of aggression against Plegia. Enter Robin, Prince of Plegia, Mage Almighty, Swordsman Extraordinaire. With a knack for changing fates, Robin must captain his own band of soldiers to combat this threat, even as more trouble brews unseen. And where is Chrom in all this? AU fem!Chrom

* * *

Chapter 4: Lost and Found

* * *

"How many can say they were born knowing themselves?" - A philosophy instructor, to Robin.

* * *

"I know this is a dumb question… but is he going to be okay?"

That was Lissa, but Robin willed himself not to react outwardly.

"I don't know, but he said he wanted to be alone for now. Come, we need to scout the area."

That was Aversa. She was the one level-headed one now, taking charge of the Shepherds in Robin's absence.

"Come on, Lissa. If you want to learn more about magic, how about blood magic? There's plenty all around here! Nyahahaha!" There was only one person that could be.

Robin winced, even if he knew it was just Henry's general disposition to gloss over the carnage. It hurt.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. It was late afternoon and Robin was sitting under a tree at the edge of the clearing, facing away from the battlefield. Aversa and Chryme had just departed on a quick scouting mission to search for any more Ylissean ambushers, while the rest of his company were still hovering like worried flies on the other side, trying to quietly debate what they should do. They were failing at both the 'quiet' and 'debate' parts, having failed to keep their voices down and get to a consensus, and that only made Robin feel worse.

Robin groaned internally, scrunching up his eyes as he felt a surge of loathing, at himself, at his failure, and then just as quickly as it had came, it was gone. Robin ignored the cold beginning to nip at his fingers.

He wanted to forget the whole day and pretend it never happened. He wanted to sink into the ground and die.

He wanted to punch himself in the face and break out of his fugue, he wanted to plan another course of action to retrieve his fool of a father and berate him once he saved him.

But Robin couldn't muster the energy to, his mind felt hazy and blank, devoid of the constant analysis that characterized his previous life. His previous life before, when he had been a hopeful prince and aspiring Tactician.

Not a failure.

A dull nagging voice in Robin's head told him to stop crying over himself and begin again, do justice to the men whose lives he had spent recklessly, but he couldn't find the energy. At this point, there wasn't really a future for Robin to consider. His father and uncle were long gone, Camparia's rescue was more of a fluke on her own part than by any machinations of Robin's. Maybe he'd disband the group and return to the capital in shame, face the hatred of the mothers whose sons he'd throw away—

It was very quiet, Robin realized in the idle portion of his mind, as he bemoaned his birth. There was a light patter of footsteps. He looked up. It was Tharja, and with an expression on her face that Robin was entirely unused to seeing.

Pity.

"Robin, stop this," she urged, cutting straight to the point. Tharja's single-mindedness had always been a trait that Robin had admired (and sometimes feared), but now it only made him wince. _She_ knew what her purpose was.

"This isn't your fault," she said suddenly, standing above his crouched form. "I know how you're feeling, and you shouldn't be. We were tricked and ambushed, you don't need to—"

"What do you mean, I don't need to _what?_ I'm the _Tactician,_ this is my _job!_ Am I not supposed to plan ahead or take the enemy into account?" He was standing now, his voice steadily rising, his fists clenching "This is my job, _this is what I'm supposed to be good at!_ And I failed, I failed _and_ _all those men are dead now because of me!_ Don't tell me that I shouldn't worry, who'll be the one who'll tell their families that I brought them on a fantastical suicide mission so they could die for nothing? _Who, tell me who!_ "

He ended his tirade with his teeth bared and magical power thrumming off him in waves. He was breathing heavily and every hair on his body was standing erect due to the stress, while Tharja was stoic, eyes closed as she endured his misplaced fury. Even as Robin watched, waiting for her reaction, she slowly opened her eyes and blushed inadvertently, her eyes instantly drawn to his hands on her shoulders. He hadn't even realized he had taken ahold of her, or that he had pushed her back against a tree.

More troubling, Robin hadn't noticed that the mark adorning the back of his right hand was glowing a shadowy lavender. Tharja seemed entranced, and Robin mentally cursed himself. Like lightning, he whipped his hands away from her shoulders.

She seemed almost disappointed, but seemed to recover her cool head that seemed to lose itself in his presence.

"Oh ho, what do we have here?" Lissa's voice cut through the emotional haze that clouded Robin's mind, and he tried to calm his racing heart, hiding his right hand behind his back.

Lissa, with a sanguine grin adorning her face, peered at Robin cheekily. "Looks like our captain has snapped out of his funk!"

"Hahaha, finally! I could only dabble around with all this blood for so long!" Henry grinned, but Lissa looked aghast.

"Stop it! These were people, how can you just do that?" Lissa cried. She looked upset but didn't run off. Robin assumed it was because there was really nowhere for her to go.

As Henry tried to apologize and/or harass Lissa's sensibilities further (Robin really couldn't differentiate the two), Aversa's midnight pegasus swooped down next to them. She and Chryme dismounted, carrying with them mixed news.

"Robin," Aversa said, her voice direct. "We found the Wyvern Knight patrol that was supposed to come to our rescue." She held out an Ylissean arrow and Robin understood. They had planned much further ahead than Robin ever had. More deaths to weigh against Robin's soul.

Chryme stepped forward, her face slightly pale but her eyes hard. "I think we'll need these more than they will, honestly." In her hands was a pack of supplies, no doubt looted from the patrol's encampment. Chryme looked uncomfortable having pilfered from the dead, but she didn't seem afraid to do what she had to.

As the group sated their hunger on dried meat and bread from the pack, Chryme and Aversa prepared to take off once more and ferry over more supplies. Robin grimaced. Chryme knew what she wanted to do. Chryme knew who she was. Feeling ill, Robin took several steps back and leaned against another tree, his legs unsteady.

Long moments passed, and Robin dimly registered the take off of Aversa's pegasus once more. Robin sighed. He really needed to stop this, but it was so hard to focus.

The muted conversation of the others had faded, Robin noticed. They had retreated slightly further into the treeline, probably to get some distance from the bloody scene that still decorated the earth nearby.

Slowly, Robin made to follow them. It wouldn't do to lose them now, not when he had already lost so much. He opened his eyes—

And found Chryme was standing right in front of him, their heads knocking against one another.

"Oh Naga! Don't get up so fast!" She swore, rubbing at her head. She gave him a dirty look.

Her disgust mirrored Robin's own at himself, and he muttered an apology. "Sorry about that." He turned to go after the others.

"Not so fast!" Chryme cried out, her hand snatching Robin's arm. "I heard from the others that you've been in a bad state since we lost the battle." At that, Robin winced, but Chryme shook him back into focus. "You need to stop feeling so sorry for yourself. Yes, maybe we could have prepared better, but deception is half the battle! You had no way of knowing what was going to happen!"

At her words, Robin felt more mud being heaped onto his soul. Tharja and Chryme could try their niceties all they wanted, but as long as—

"Snap out of it!" Chryme slapped him, hard across the face, sending Robin straight into the dirt. "Enough is enough! Don't act like you're the one who killed all those men—"

Robin, angry now, the bruise on his face beginning to form, stood and shouted back at her. "Am I not? I _did_ kill those men, I lead them to their deaths on a fool's errand! Don't tell me that isn't true! I hardly gave them any orders before hand, and in the battle—"

"In the battle, you were fighting for your life against a demonic Taguel that almost spilled both our innards!" Chryme yelled right back at him, eyes blazing. "Are you trying to say that you should have just pranced off and rallied your men because you were so carefree and idle? _We were fighting for our lives, just like them_. Your men knew you were doing all you could, none of them would have blamed you—"

Robin cut her off again. "Hah! None of them will blame me because _they're all dead!_ Hard to carry a grudge from the grave, isn't it? What about their mothers and fathers, wives and children? I was responsible for them, _I was their leader_ —"

" _You were their leader, and they died for you!_ " Chryme bellowed back. "Do you think those men were craven, think that they didn't know the risks? You're their prince and liege lord, they followed you into battle because they wanted to!

"They laid down their lives for you," Chryme shouted still, pressing Robin back into the tree, standing over him with all the fury of an angry goddess. "They laid down their lives for you, so that you could live through their sacrifice. They fought to the death, for you. And look what you're doing now with the gift they paid for in blood." Her voice had lost its ringing righteousness, but her countenance was still steely.

She was right, Robin realized. She was right and he was wrong.

He was wrong and he was still a failure and Robin groaned and leaned against the tree, burying his face into his hands while the tears he had been suppressing fell freely. First a failure, now a babe. He wished that Chryme wasn't there to witness it, that she wouldn't realize he wasn't worth following, but there was nothing he could do to make her leave him in peace. A strangled choked sound escaped his throat, and Robin mentally berated himself further, feeling more worthless than he ever thought possible—

Hands, callused yet gentle, grasped his and lead them away from his face. Robin winced and resisted, but it was token. There wasn't any strength left in his limbs after the day's worth of trouble.

His arms at his sides now, Robin let Chryme dote on him, wiping his eyes with a small cloth and cleaning his face. It was supremely embarrassing, but Robin let her do it, staring in the azure orbs she had for eyes as she did. Whatever indignation or anger she had been directing at him earlier wasn't personal, he realized. She smarted from the loss just as hard, she understood how he felt too. Without a word, he understood.

Mostly presentable now, Robin watched as Chryme remained in proximity, her eyes searching his.

"Better now?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "Much better."

They remained that way, Robin against the tree and Chryme standing in front of him, one hand on Robin's face, the other rubbing her right shoulder. They were close enough to kiss for several long moments, until the rustle of pegasus feathers broke them from their reverie and Chryme stepped away. Robin almost expected a blush from her, Chryme being a whirlwind with a blade but still an apparent novice in other aspects, but instead she just continued to stare at him, before slowly moving to help Tharja and Aversa tidy up the supplies they brought back.

"Chryme, wait," blurted Robin uncontrollably.

"Yes?" she returned, her eyes flicking back to him, her countenance unreadable.

"...Thank you," Robin said after a moment. "For everything. I needed that."

Chryme smiled, and Robin felt a surge of warmth through him. "Of course." She made to continue on, but Robin stopped her again, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I thought you were going to help Aversa ferry over more supplies. Why did you stay?"

She paused, and gave him another unreadable look. "Tharja asked me to talk to you, actually. Speaking of her, I should really help." Chryme stepped away and out into the clearing, too quickly for Robin to stop her again, with one hand still worrying over her right shoulder.

It didn't matter though, as Robin was too stunned to react. Tharja had asked another girl to speak to him?

To say Robin was suddenly uneasy would be a drastic understatement.

* * *

"Mother, how did you and Father meet? Tharja says princes and princesses meet and they get married and become kings and queens. She says she wants to be my queen, but I don't want to get married yet! Father says _real_ princes should go to battle for their princesses first!" - A young Robin, to his mother.

* * *

They had some tents and rations now, much better than the hours previous when they had been completely destitute. The Shepherds were in a rough circle of a campsite, a small fire crackling in the middle.

Robin had apologized first thing to his friends, for his lack of leadership before, during, and after the battle. They had ignored him when he insisted he hadn't done enough, and teased him for moping afterward. They weren't serious though.

At least, Robin hoped they weren't.

" _But Robinnnnn_ ," Lissa whined. "If _I_ had a cutie like Chryme nearby, _I'd_ definitely pull a stunt like that to get some _alone time_ with her. Just admit it!"

Red enough already, Robin muttered something about perverted old men, and Lissa broke out in giggles. Chryme shot Lissa a look, but otherwise didn't react to her baiting.

They were waiting for something still, Robin realized as Lissa and Henry filled the lull in conversation with merry nothings. They were waiting for him to take charge.

Robin steeled himself for a moment, then began to speak. "If you won't accept my apologies, then I'll discard them for now. We have more pressing issues at hand. We need to decide our next move." Robin's voice began shakily, but he pretended it wasn't and hoped the others wouldn't care either.

They perked up at his words, but Robin wasn't done. "I'm not going to ask you all to continue following me," Robin said. "If you want to head back, then I will release you from duty with no bad blood between us. I still have to follow after my father and free him from Marth's clutches. The journey—"

Aversa, brushing down her pegasus, scoffed. "Oh quit it, Robin. Don't try to scare us off. We're all with you." Lissa and Henry chorused their agreement.

Tharja, her face impassive, didn't react to his melancholy speech in the slightest. Robin already knew she would follow him to hell and back.

Chryme, curiously enough, nodded slowly, as though lost in thought. At any rate, each of the Shepherds looked determined to stick with him.

Camparia, with Panne's head in her lap, began to speak. "Cousin, I would follow you as well, but—"

"But I would never let you," Robin finished, and Camparia smiled softly.

The two of them were close, raised almost like siblings until training separated them for a time. Camparia was now a willowy Dark Knight (currently without a mount), and had been sickly for most of her life due to circumstances of birth, though that hadn't stopped her from learning magic and later riding and some swordplay. She seemed fine now, if not slightly pale. Though the others might not understand the reason, the two of them had already agreed she had to return to Plegia.

If Camparia went with them to Ylisse, she would die.

"You would return to your warren?" That was Panne, and she was watching Camparia with a mixture of confusion and fear. She had no home to speak of now, and no family to live for, but she owed her life to Camparia and seemed intent to repay that debt. Panne already seemed rather attached to Camparia, at any rate.

"Yes, I must," Camparia soothed, brushing her hand down Panne's long hair. The Taguel didn't seem to mind the touch. "I shall be fine on the journey alone. If you would indulge me, Panne, please accompany my kin Robin. He intends to march into the den of our enemies and rescue our other kin."

Panne didn't look happy to be separated from Camparia, but nodded. Robin, on the other hand, had his doubts.

"Are you certain, cousin? Some company would reassure me of your journey's safety."

"I can fight," Panne interrupted, her voice strong. "Members of my warren were all to be ready to defend ourselves if we were scattered."

At the unspoken question, Panne wilted slightly yet did not lose her spirit. "I did not fight when my warren was attacked or in the battle today because Yarne was still there. He… he did not like it when I had to fight."

That silenced everyone present. Panne tucked her head further into Camparia's lap. She did not speak again for the rest of the night.

"One last thing, cousin," Robin eventually ventured. "The council seemed particularly rebellious last I left. The news of my defeat is doubtless to inflame their persistence. Please keep an eye on them for me. It is lucky we have one member of the family returning for now, to keep them in line."

Camparia murmured her assent, stroking Panne's head in her lap again. The lull in the conversation lengthened, the chatterbox Henry having fallen asleep in the other chatterbox Lissa's lap. Chryme spoke, and as she did, Robin realized he had been waiting for her to speak.

"What are we to do about the bodies?"

The Plegians seemed startled at Chryme's outburst, but Robin quickly recovered. "We won't leave them to rot. Camparia, can you find the nearest village and enlist some men to help you bury them?"

This was an outright lie, but it wouldn't do to reveal to the Ylisseans the reason why Camparia was bound to Plegian soil. Not yet, at least.

The conversation fell mostly silent then, the Shepherds beginning to make preparations for nightfall. Robin took first watch, wanting to think more.

They had enough small tents for most everyone, but Robin would have to share with Henry (a partial reason as to why Robin took first watch), and Panne had curled up with Camparia in her tent. They were small, personal tents, yet it seemed that Panne's beast form managed the tight squeeze, and Camparia was far too polite to mention the inconvenience. Though, due to the chill blowing in from the north, doubling up on tents seemed like an attractive prospect.

While the others tucked into their tents, Robin began to stroll slowly around the encampment until he stopped at a particular tent.

Tharja stepped away from her tent and began to wordlessly accompany Robin as the two made distance between them and the others. Once they were far enough that they wouldn't disturb the rest of the others, Robin turned to speak, yet found she was gazing in the distance.

"Tharja," Robin greeted, his voice calm yet warm. "Thank you, for speaking to me earlier. I'm sorry I lost my temper with you, it wasn't—"

The Dark Mage turned to face him, and Robin fell silent. The girl could fling herself all over him when she wanted, but there would always be times when Robin could appreciate her for herself. When she quelled the hearts of men with icy glares was one such time.

This look was without the chill that Robin had seen her dispense unto flirtatious guardsmen who thought her within reach, but it still made Robin uneasy. Tharja's eyes seemed to pierce the depths of his soul, and he stood still, waiting for her verdict.

"There's no need to apologize," she said eventually, voice soft and without the energy she normally put forth for Robin. "Your company is always enough for me." She punctuated the second statement with a coy smile, and Robin felt the gravity of the conversation fall away.

She continued. "I realized it wasn't the best idea for me to speak to you while you were in that state, and asked Chryme to do so in my stead. I see that she helped you more than I could."

Robin frowned. "Perhaps, but by no fault of your own. I just needed someone to beat some sense into me—"

"And I'm not the one who can do that for you," Tharja finished, though it was almost a question. This was making Robin uneasy. He had been off balance since the battle, yet the combination attacks of Chryme and Tharja were too much to handle now. He tried to wrack his brain for an appropriate response.

"Umm… well, that isn't exactly what…" He was grasping at straws now, belatedly wondering how he was even put into this position. Tharja's insistent gaze wasn't helping.

"You're very important to me, Tharja," Robin blurted out, even as he realized once again that she might take it the wrong way. But it wasn't a false statement. The two had been through a lot together, best friends since childhood.

Tharja, instead of flushing with pleasure or flirting with him, gave him only a small, sad smile, eyes glimmering with a mixture of wistfulness and acceptance. "And you're very important to me, Robin. Please remember to get some sleep tonight." She ghosted away, silent footsteps not breaking the quiet she had left behind.

Robin stood there, watching her make her way back to the campsite. Finally, after Tharja entered her tent and was lost to view, Robin sighed.

 _Women._

* * *

"Oh Robin, it's my dearest hope that whoever your princess is, the two of you will be able to live happy and peaceful lives. Your father battled only other nobles for my hand, but I'm glad he did. Without him, we never would have had you. Now, come here! It's too early for talk of marriage for you! Let me cherish my son for a while longer. Shall we go for a walk in the gardens, just the two of us?" - Morgana, to a young Robin.

* * *

AN: Hi, I'm still not dead! This chapter is much shorter than the others (the shortest one so far, actually), but I don't think it's fluff or filler in the slightest. I had to cut it here though, since it just feels natural.

I've not much to say about the content this time around, as…. yeah. Just not a lot to say. Robin is getting kind of angsty, but he did just experience his first major defeat. Plus, character development! Overall, I'm happy with this chapter (asides from its length, but size doesn't matter, right?)

Special thanks to my beta Ducky, whose valuable time I am taking cause I am a needy hoe. Thanks Ducky!

Singular Review Response! Honestly, I expect one day I'll have no reviews by next chapter and that'll be super sad. Cormag Ravenstaff: Yep, I honestly originally wanted these quotes because I wanted to add more backstory and characterization without just saying it outright. Personally, I kind of think of it as cheating, but heyyyyy.

And finally, omake! Featuring... Panne x Robin! Yes, I'm serious. This may be mostly inspired/ripped off from a scene from the most popular fic in this section of the site.

* * *

"You know, really weird things happen at night. _Really weird! ..._ Hey, I'm not responsible for _all_ of them!" - Henry, to Robin.

* * *

His watch coming to an end, Robin stretched a final time before shaking Henry awake. The Dark Mage, eyes flying open, gave Robin a cheerful grin unsuited to the time of night and bounded out of the tent without a word.

Shivering, Robin wondered if he had even slept at all.

He crawled into the tent and shivered again, this time due to the chill. There were two bedrolls side by side in the tent, and Henry's was ice cold as well. Robin didn't want to know how that had came about.

He sighed, rubbing his hands together for warmth as he tucked in. It would have to do for now. Robin remembered other chilly nights, on excursions in the field, overseeing villages and sleeping by the roadside. On those occasions though, Robin at least had a cot and as many blankets as he wanted. A dead man's bedroll was hardly a fitting comparison. Frowning, Robin considered increasing the funding for the soldiers of the army.

It was much too cold for him to sleep, so he lazily went over more formations in his head as he tried to find a comfortable position. But then—

"Robin!" came a hushed but chipper voice. Henry.

"What?" Robin said, sitting up quickly. For all his efforts, sleep was a long way coming.

"Nyahaha, I found Panne! She's freezing out here, open up the tent!"

What?

Robin parted the tent flaps, and found Henry's grinning face far too close to his own. He stumbled back as Henry went on.

"You'd think she'd be the warmest one of us, but look! She's almost ice! I think she was wandering around; Camparia must have tossed and turned too much in the tent! Hahaha!"

"I was not wandering around! Merely looking for another place to sleep. It is no fault of mine that this country is so cold." Panne sounded tired, and Robin was as well.

"See if any of the others are still awake and double with them. Good night." He flopped back down and sighed.

…

" _Panne, what are you doing?"_ he hissed as she clambered into his bedroll. She gave him a curious look, yellow eyes meeting his.

"I am joining you, Captain. The others are all still asleep, and you are not. I will not disturb them this way," she said matter-of-factly.

She was completely inside now and Robin swore mentally. This really wouldn't do. He tried to slide out of the bedroll, but Panne stopped him.

"I will freeze to death if you leave. In my warren, it is very common for all to sleep side by side throughout the year. You humans may not due to your false warrens, but this is the best way for me."

As though the matter was settled, Panne snuggled closer, eyes closed, her face near his. Robin was fortunate it was dark, otherwise she might comment on his fierce blush in the same detached tone. It wasn't his fault she was soft and warm.

"No, that's not why humans don't sleep together!" Robin said, struggling to keep his voice calm in the situation. "Yes, tents keep us warm, but we only sleep with our, err, mates. So Panne, can you _please_ —"

Her eyes opened again and the shining gold orbs silenced him.

"Mates, you say?" She hummed, thinking, and Robin realized the other implication of what he had said.

"Very well. By sharing this den with me, you _are_ preserving my life. Normally this is not so sudden among the Taguel, but a bond like this is not unheard of. I will be your life mate," she said with the same deadpan logic.

Robin stuttered, the heat from his face so intense there was no way Panne hadn't noticed. It seemed she hadn't missed his other reaction either.

She raised an eyebrow. "You are very eager, mate." Despite any misgivings, Panne began to nuzzle his neck, and Robin lost all higher brain function.

"But perhaps another time," Panne said eventually. "I am very tired. Good night." And with that, she immediately went to sleep.

Robin didn't know whether he should feel relieved or rejected, but he was leaning toward the latter.

* * *

"Yes, err, I think I'm married to Panne now. I hope you will bless our union." - Robin, to Tharja and Chryme. His last words.

* * *

The rest of the omake is probably rated M.


	5. Chapter 5: Into Ylisse

Summary: In a strange reversal of fates, Ylisse, ruled by the vain and self-styled King Marth, begins a war of aggression against Plegia. Enter Robin, Prince of Plegia, Mage Almighty, Swordsman Extraordinaire. With a knack for changing fates, Robin must captain his own band of soldiers to combat this threat, even as more trouble brews unseen. And where is Chrom in all this? AU fem!Chrom

* * *

Chapter 5: Into Ylisse

* * *

"Information is the key to winning wars, Robin. Not just espionage; you need to understand your own capabilities and your soldiers' as well. Neglect can lead to catastrophe… So, when your mother asks you where I am, tell her I'm in the war room. That's a good boy." - Validar, to Robin.

* * *

They left Camparia the next morning, with a hug between her and Robin and a whispered promise to keep her summoning to a discrete minimum. She reassured him that the graves would be befitting of soldiers who had died in the line of duty. Panne seemed down to see Camparia waving to them as they departed, but she remained steadfast in her chosen duty.

There were several horses that had lost their riders in the fighting or had been cut loose and fled the area. With a bit of searching from Aversa, they had four, though they left one behind with Camparia (it wouldn't do to leave the Dark Knight unmounted, after all).

Robin urged the Shepherds on, seeking to get enough ground between them and Camparia so she could have their dead buried as quickly as possible. Afterward, she would ride to the border guard's encampment and bury them, then head back to Castle Plegia. She had a tome from Robin and a sword looted from the battlefield. She would be fine.

With only three horses and seven Shepherds, they decided it would be most efficient to have the horses carry their meager supplies and travel by foot.

Robin was in the back of the procession, while Henry and Lissa were up to their antics in the front and Aversa was in the skies above, keeping an eye out. Panne was walking next to Robin, while Chryme and Tharja were vaguely in front of him by several steps. Neither had met his eye all morning.

They walked for about an hour, beginning the descent from the mountain range into Ylisse, before Robin brought up the questions he had been mulling over in his head.

"Panne, if you don't mind, could I trouble you with some questions about the Taguel?" asked Robin, trying not to offend her.

She gave him a blank look. "I owe your kin my life. It is the least I can do to answer your questions."

Robin gave her a closer inspection. Other than the marks adorning her skin, the extra patches of fur, and her ears, Panne was remarkably similar to any other human.

"How exactly does your other form work? How do you change into it? And how does it feel? Does it put strain on your body?" Robin rattled off the list of questions, realizing only after that he had been a little hasty.

Panne, to her credit, blinked once, then frowned. "Taguel are fluid. Our other shape is as much us as my current shape. We can shift at will with a little concentration; the bunnies can begin changing form within several days of birth, though it is a random process, and often can surprise the mother at times. Our greater form, as we call it, does take more energy when used in activity, though some prefer to remain in that form at all times."

She finished her explanation and looked at her companions, finding them all staring at her. Panne shrugged and continued unbidden. "It was customary, when the relations between Taguel and man were less violent, for Taguel to assume their lesser form in the presence of man, for the sake of their familiarity. Now, the elders of my warren told us to stay in our greater form when men were nearby, or else be slain."

Silence greeted the end of her tale. Robin regretted making her relive the painful memories, but it was a necessary evil if he was to understand her capabilities in combat.

Lissa laughed nervously while twirling a healing staff, to fill the silence. She whacked Henry in the face as she did.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" she gushed.

"Nyahaha, it's okay! Hey look, blood!" Henry gushed, but in a different way.

"Oh Naga, stop! Don't you dare touch me with that! _No!_ "

Ignoring them, Robin peered at Panne slightly more closely. "So, do you prefer to be in your 'lesser' or 'greater' form?"

She shrugged. "I am indifferent to either. The strength of limb is much more in the greater form, but my current shape is how many Taguel prefer to live and love and raise their young. That is mostly due to circumstance though; it is very difficult for Taguel to mate in their greater forms."

Everyone stared again, and this time Panne had the decency to blush. "That is what I heard from the older females. I have no experience with that myself."

Robin and Henry coughed and looked away while the other girls glared at them. After a moment though:

"Hey Lissa, are you going to heal my nose or what? Look, it's still bleeding!"

"Eeeek! _Stop!_ "

Chryme, who had fallen to about Robin's step to administer her dirty look to him, suddenly returned her gaze forward and moved ahead slightly, as if she was going to say something to her sister.

Tharja remained by Robin's side, and even she had been silent throughout every exchange so far. The two of them began to trail behind the others, if only because Henry was chasing Lissa forward and the other two were trying to keep up.

"Talk to her," Tharja said abruptly. She didn't turn to face him.

"What?" asked Robin. He didn't understand.

"Chryme. She wants to talk to you about something, but she's having trouble starting a conversation. Initiate." She was still deadpan.

"Tharja, are you okay? You've been acting strangely." Whatever Robin was supposed to say to her, this wasn't it.

Tharja looked almost as if she was going to burst out with laughter, then the look evaporated just as quickly, and she looked almost pained.

"I'm fine," she said after a moment. "Don't worry about me. Just mention the weather or ask her how she is." She nudged him forward with a hand and took the guides to the horses.

Stumbling, Robin complied, though he wasn't quite sure why.

"Chryme," he said as he caught up to her.

She pulled back, letting her sister and Henry laugh about something while Panne tried to follow their conversation.

"Robin," she greeted back coolly, and then she frowned.

"How are you?" said Robin, and he wanted to smack himself. She was already frowning, and now he was making it worse.

"I'm perfectly fine," said Chryme, and she meant it. She bit her lip, and Robin tried not to let that distract him. "More importantly, how are you?"

He knew what she meant by that. How was he handling the events from yesterday?

"I'm okay," he said after a moment. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the exact truth either. "I'll feel a lot better after I rescue my father and make sure their deaths weren't in vain."

Chryme sighed, and some of the tension Robin hadn't noticed before seemed to go out of her.

"Good," she smiled, for the first time that day. "I was worrying if you were still hung up over it, but I didn't know how to bring it up. If it bothers you overly, talk to me. Don't let it fester like before."

Robin laughed too. "Thank you, I will."

They smiled at each other and fell into another lull. Robin fidgeted, unsure if it was awkward or not. He had little experience with girls his age. Tharja, Aversa, and Camparia were the only ones he had spent any significant amount of time with. Camparia was his cousin, Aversa was hardly what he would call typical (not to say Chryme was), and Tharja…

Tharja would act normal one moment then flirt up a storm the next. Robin hoped she was an outlier for normal female behavior. Other men may have preferred a girl like her (or many girls like her), but Robin still shied away from her obsessive romance.

Chryme was a bit of a conundrum. They had just met some weeks prior, but had spoken frequently in that time, and Robin felt he had a good grasp of her character. At any rate, he felt like they were a bit closer now, even though she had seemed so distant the previous night and that morning.

There wasn't really much more to say, and the two were fortunate the silence was interrupted by the fluttering of Aversa as she landed in front of them.

"Robin, there's a burned out wagon ahead. No one seems to be around and it seems a day or two old, but I thought you should know."

He nodded, and carefully, the Shepherds proceeded, weapons at ready. The wagon really was close, and they spread out, keeping an eye on one another as they neared.

There ended up being no major cause for alarm, as there were no ambushers lurking in wait.

"This isn't one of ours," said Robin thoughtfully, inspecting the make. "At least, I don't think it is. Bit hard to tell. Seems like it could have been a merchant's: robbed by bandits, I think."

Panne, who had approached in her beast form, morphed back, soft light announcing her transformation. "I smell no Taguel near this wagon. We were not the beasts for this."

The others gave her a curious look even as they began to give the area a cursory search.

"What do you mean?" asked Lissa, ever curious.

The Taguel looked at the front of the wagon, or whatever part she thought was the front. Since it was mostly blackened ash, it was as good a guess as any.

"The blue-haired man uses Taguel as beasts of burden. I was one such, when we first met. He also tried training us to be used as mounts in combat. Taguel are not meant for that. Many collapsed in the training camps and did not recover."

It seemed everything Panne said today was dark, but Robin couldn't blame her. She had a frightful past with humans afterall. He just hoped she would trust them and their own intentions. When he returned to Plegia, perhaps he'd try to do something about the Taguel situation.

But that was an empty sentiment. It would take the monarchy of Ylisse to cease their subjugation of the race.

Chryme shouted then, from the other side of the wagon. "Hey, I found something!"

The others went to her, and she held out her prize. "A coin pouch. It's heavy. The bandits must have overlooked it as they ransacked the wagon. We can use this."

She tossed the bag to Robin, and he caught it, laughing. "Thank you, Chryme. We did lose most of our coin when they took our wagons. This will have to be the Shepherds' nest egg for now. Are you sure you didn't want it yourself?" Robin had to ask.

She looked a bit downcast for a bit "I never thought gold meant much. Our father… was always really focused on it, so I guess I just think it's not all that important." At the words, Lissa pursed her lips and rushed over to her sister, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Something passed between the two, and Robin, having never had a sibling, missed it.

"At any rate, if I want some coin, I'll just steal it back," Chryme suddenly declared with a grin, the mood refreshed. "Like this."

She separated herself from Lissa's arms and dashed forward, like an arrow launching from her bow. Robin stumbled back as her hands darted towards him, faster than Robin could keep track of, seizing his shoulders and pushing him down. Unprepared, he found himself flat on the ground, his hands suddenly empty.

Chryme stood triumphant above him, a radiant smile brightening her face, twirling the coin bag around by its drawstrings. "See? Easy."

She laughed, eyes teasing, but the bag chose that moment to tear, flinging coins all about the area. Chryme immediately turned red, suddenly demure.

"Whoops." So much for sleight of hand.

Robin and all the others laughed, and began to collect the coins from where they were scattered. As they did, Robin tried to attribute the rapid pounding of his heart from when Chryme was pushing him down to surprised adrenaline, rather than any happiness at seeing her heading towards him with a mischievous grin.

* * *

"You know, that wasn't really a true theft; you were more like a thug assaulting me than a pickpocket… Hey, give that back!" - Robin, to Chryme.

* * *

The rest of the journey into Ylisse was fairly uneventful. They spent their days traveling by the main road, though they ducked off the path into hiding whenever they passed any royal patrols. Other travelers were tense, and the news they exchanged told them there was no news of the King being captured. It was telling, the way everyone would watch their scenery carefully and with their weapons at hand. It seemed the Ylissean guards were just as much bandits as the actual ones.

Eventually, they made it to Themis, the greatest city in Ylisse west of the capital. Low on food and after information, Robin had deemed it worth the effort to infiltrate the city. But, they needed disguises.

They had managed to purchase several cloaks ("Perfect!" Robin had remarked) from passing merchants, and several quick hexes changed their distinctive hair colors. For all intents and purposes, they appeared to be travelers stopping by the great city of Themis. Not infiltrating enemy agents, no sir.

The guardsmen at the gate bought the story and they entered successfully. It was almost not without incident, as they had to smuggle Aversa's pegasus into the city as well. A couple hexes on their packs helped hide the wings from view, but it was still an unsure thing, so Aversa took matters into her own hands.

With a little more of her _natural_ charm, she turned herself into a walking distraction, drawing eyes away from her pegasus. It wasn't too hard; Aversa was very pretty when she wanted to be.

The strategy was not without its risks. One of the guardsmen had leered especially hard at Aversa, but fortunately (for him) he didn't try anything funny. If he had, Robin was fairly certain Aversa would have hexed him into the ground, and that would have blown their cover. She never mentioned it, but Robin could tell she still thought of Casper, her slain suitor, from time to time.

At any rate, they were in. It was late afternoon, and the gates closed perhaps an hour after they managed to get inside.

Seeking to dodge the impending curfew and the oppressive air that began to pervade the streets as the guardsmen began their nightly patrols, the Shepherds ducked into the nearest inn for the night. Paying for their rooms would exhaust the last of the coin they had acquired, but—

"Themis is actually our home," Chryme explained with a grin, happy to see the city once more. "Lissa and I grew up here, and we have connections. Don't worry about the gold too much; Lissa and I are Thieves too, remember?"

Robin took their camping supplies to their rooms while Lissa and Henry lead the horses into the stable, arguing about nothing all the while.

Panne accompanied Robin, almost as if Camparia's only request to her meant her to be good shape. After he deposited the bags with an unceremonious _plop_ , she stopped him with a quick question.

"Lissa and Henry, are they mates?"

Robin choked at the sudden question, fighting for breath against the abrupt rebellion of his airway. Several long moments passed, and Robin was glad his journey would not end in a dusty tavern. It wasn't an ending befitting a prince.

"They, err, aren't. Not yet. We all think they're headed that way though." Robin was mostly sheepish. How was he supposed to explain this?

"What is stopping them from mating then?" Panne wasn't satisfied with his meager answer.

Robin was better prepared this time, and didn't relapse into another coughing fit. He still didn't have a good answer though.

"Nothing really…" Robin tried, as they descended the stairs and returned to where the others were waiting. "It's just that humans tend to take their time with this sort of thing. We all think they're interested in one another, but…"

It wasn't too eloquent, but Panne seemed to accept this answer, and Robin dared to hope that she'd drop the subject. Robin wasn't equipped to tutor a Taguel in elaborate teenage mating rituals.

They rejoined the rest of the Shepherds in the main room, where the raucous antics of the other patrons dominated the airspace as dinners were ordered and served. It was also where said couple-to-be were still arguing.

"I think that's absurd," Lissa was saying. "Why would a man even _want_ a horse's body?"

"Because he'd be the ultimate Bow Knight!" Henry laughed. "Half man, half horse! And even better, he could sleep standing up!"

Lissa actually looked fairly impressed at his second point, but was stopped from continuing the conversation by Panne. She had turned aside to Robin to ask another question, and her timing was perfect. Lissa and Henry had both fallen silent in that moment and her words were the only ones to cut the silence between the Shepherds.

"Is such banter part of the mating ritual? Among Taguel it is more to the point and less indirect." She seemed slightly judgmental.

The reactions to Panne's words of wisdom were immediate. Chryme and Aversa broke out with laughter, and Robin began to choke again (it seemed he hadn't mastered the reflex). Tharja actually snorted and Henry, the ever unflinching, laughed as well, though he must have known what Panne was referring to.

That left Lissa, the blushing bride-to-be (if Panne could manage to hurry her into it). She took a singular moment to register the words, another for their meanings, and then turned a dark red, completely mortified.

Her face took on a sort of scrunched grimace and she slowly glided over to a table and sat down, resting her face on the surface. Still embarrassed, in this position her dignity was at least shielded by her arms. Lissa did not betray her stillness in the slightest: she was perfectly statuesque.

At the very least Robin had the shame to feel guilty at her embarrassment, but all of the Shepherds moved to join Lissa at the table, filling the atmosphere with sudden, inane conversation.

All of the Shepherds, except Chryme. She stopped Robin from making his way to the table with a tap on his shoulder. He turned to her, and she let loose a small laugh.

"I haven't had anything to tease Lissa about in _months_. I'll have to thank Panne later," she shared.

Robin smiled too, but stopped short. "What do you mean, 'later?'" he asked.

Chryme shrugged, acting almost guilty. "If I have my _Captain's_ permission, I'd like to check up on my contacts in the area. Get some more information, you know the drill."

From her tone of voice, Robin could tell she was joking about the jab at rank, but he was still surprised. It wasn't so much that he didn't want her to leave, but he had been looking forward to a warm dinner and conversation with all of his friends and companions.

Friends. That's what Chryme was now. She was his friend. Robin hadn't even considered it before, but the term just felt natural when applied to her.

Something about the look on his face must have told Chryme something, because she suddenly looked a bit concerned, leaning in to peer more closely at Robin.

"Err, Captain? Are you alright?"

"Yes!" hastened Robin, momentarily having forgotten he was expected to respond verbally. "If you really think it's a good idea, then go ahead. Try not to stay out too late though, alright? It's best to stay together, this deep in hostile territory."

It seemed his reassurances hadn't fully convinced her. She furrowed her brow. "What's the matter?"

Very to the point, as always. Chryme's gaze was insistent though, and she leaned in, inadvertently pushing Robin backwards slightly.

"Nothing, it's nothing," said Robin. "Just, I was looking forward to a hot dinner with—"

"With me?" she interrupted. Chryme had, in a sudden display of coyness more characteristic of her moping Trickster sister, leaned towards him even more aggressively. Her hexed-brown hair seemed to sway and frame her face, but her shining blue eyes were amused, along with another emotion Robin couldn't place exactly. She was smiling and she was close, and that didn't make it any easier for Robin to finish his answer.

"W-with the Shepherds," he stuttered. Why was he so nervous? It was an honest answer.

She paused for a moment, her expression turning to a slight frown. It wasn't the answer she seemed to have wanted, but she was teasing him and Robin was the straight man in the Shepherds, if only because no one else would be.

Chryme continued her insistent staring, as though trying to find that different answer she desired, but then she relaxed just as suddenly as she had started.

"I'll stay then," Chryme agreed. "That hot, pricey dinner you just promised me sounds really good, and someone has to cheer up my sister." With that, Chryme headed to the table they had claimed, signaling a waitress to pick up their order.

Robin watched her leave for a moment, but then...

"Hey! I didn't promise you any pricey dinner!"

"Waitress!" Chryme insisted. "Six orders of the best you offer tonight, and one order of gruel for this one!"

"Wait a minute! Chryme! Hey!"

She laughed, her eyes darting back to his angry face as she took a seat, and Robin began to regret calling her back, if only for just a moment. It didn't last.

* * *

"This, I can understand better. Many Taguel courtship rituals are based around food. Robin and Chryme must be undergoing one such human mating ritual, yes?" - Panne, to Aversa.

* * *

Lissa had continued her silence throughout dinner, even though Panne had moved on from the subject and Henry was being too Henry to address it. It was a good meal though, if only due to its recent competitors being cold bread and dry meat.

Conversation had mostly paused through supper due to the Shepherds' eagerness to taste hot food, and Robin's eyes scanned the inn as he ate (thankfully, not gruel).

The other travellers seemed to keep mostly to themselves, hushed groups finally able to make merry in the relative safety. Most seemed to be merchants who were celebrating the day's profits or lamenting their losses.

One such merchant was particularly drunk, clamoring for more drinks as he mourned the loss of his merchandise to guards, who had seized it under suspicion of contraband.

But the most notable ones (aside from the Plegians lurking in the midst) were a vibrant group of mercenaries in the corner, near the counter. They were really a colorful company: the leader seems to be an older Feroxi man, bellowing with laughter at the jokes of a rather large Ylissean. There also seemed to be a swordsman, dark and silent, of a nationality Robin couldn't quite place, and more curiously, a beautiful Feroxi woman and a young girl, who was animatedly chatting to her fellow female.

There was no more time to consider them though, as Robin returned his attention to his own companions.

Lissa remained with her face plastered to the table, having raised her head only to take small bites and return to sulking. Her reaction wasn't too extreme, given that Chryme was chatting happily about the subject over her to Aversa, who seemed to enjoy the teasing.

Tharja was talking to Panne about the Taguel, which made Robin happy. He had been fretting for a while that Tharja wouldn't open up to the other, new Shepherds, but it seemed his worries were unfounded.

That left Henry, who nudged Robin.

"Hahaha, hey Robin! Don't you think we should tell them?"

Henry, true to his character, wasn't exactly whispering, but the others didn't seem to have noticed, and Robin didn't care. It wouldn't matter in moment, because Henry was right.

Nodding, Robin glanced around. Reasonably sure no curious ears would be listening to their conversation, he turned to and butted into Chryme and Aversa's chat.

"Ladies," he said. "Chryme, Lissa, I want to apologize for lying to the two of you."

Chryme frowned, pausing in her ruthless teasing of Lissa. "Lying?"

Lissa looked up from the table, her expression a perfect copy of Chryme's, but when she saw Henry she flushed and slammed her head back into her arms.

"Yes, I lied to you. I deemed it unimportant at the time, and hope you will forgive me for this travesty. When we left Camparia with the duty of burying our dead, we already knew we weren't going to enlist any nearby villagers."

Robin cleared his throat, relieved that Chryme seemed to be taking it well. She had the strangest expression on her face when he began, but the moment he pinpointed the exact context, she had relaxed slightly.

"This is a state secret in Plegia, and only the royal family and the highest Grimleal advisors and nobles know of it. Advanced Dark Mages can, in essence, call forth the dead to do our bidding. We call them Risen."

"Risen?" Chryme murmured, thoughtful. She had a question. "When you say… 'call forth the dead,' what do you mean?"

"Their bodies," clarified Robin. "Not their spirits or souls, really. It's more like a thrall or a servant: mindless. Their forms decay over time as the magic wains and burns at their bodies, then they dissolve into ash. But please realize: we aren't enslaving any sentience, and Camparia wasn't going to disgrace the dead by using them to bury themselves. It's really just an easy way for Plegia to manifest labor in times of need."

Henry laughed. "It's actually why Plegia has so much gold in the treasury! We can just mine it with all our free labor! Nyahahaha!"

Chryme frowned again. "Royal treasury, huh." She seemed particularly bitter for a moment, then sighed. "I'm not mad about this Robin, stop worrying."

The worrywart in question coughed, startled. "How can you tell?" In his haste, he forgot he could have denied it, but it hadn't mattered.

"The look on your face," laughed Chryme softly. "It's so easy to tell, right?"

Aversa and Henry, who had both known Robin was going to breach the subject and were prepared for the worst, nodded, grinning at his expense. It seemed they had managed to hide their anxiousness better than their Captain did.

"Plus, I overheard you talking about… About _confessing..._ to us, about something or the other," Chryme added. As she said that though, Lissa, who had raised her head to listen to the whole of Robin's explanation, grinned at her.

"You know, _dear sister_ , I seem to recall—" Lissa began, her tone of voice downright cruel, but Chryme shushed her immediately, her cheeks red.

"T-this is is better than whatever we expected," Chryme smoothed. "Thanks for telling us your _state secret_ , Robin. We don't really mind, right Lissa?"

Lissa nodded, a smile gracing her face for the first time since disaster Panne had hit. "Mmm, yeah. If Marth had access to such cheap labor, maybe he'd be less stringent about money…"

That left the mood at the table suddenly somber, the opposite effect Lissa usually had on a conversation.

It didn't last though, as it was in that moment that a troop of guardsmen on break burst into the inn, silencing the entire room. All eyes turned to look at them, and tension rose in the air instantly.

It seemed the guards of Themis weren't well-liked.

Staring down all the others, the captain of the troop moved towards the innkeeper at the counter, ignoring the gazes of everyone in the room. He reached the counter, then glared around.

"City Guard business! What, haven't you lot seen a man of order before?" He was irate, and slowly, conversation seemed to bubble back up, in the form of hushed whispers and more stolen glances. The mood was noticeably more guarded now.

Robin continued to watch the guard captain talk to (read: intimidate) the innkeeper. The proprietor put up a valiant defense, but when the guard captain glanced at the man's daughter, he abdicated immediately.

Roughly, the guardsmen shoved the inhabitants of several tables out of the way, and took their places, while the waitress seemed to steel herself with a quick prayer, then headed over to take their orders.

It seemed Themis was in a rough spot, and Robin had assumed this would have been one of the better cities in Ylisse.

Chryme answered his unasked question. "It wasn't quite so bad before we left… Something must have happened to the Duke. I knew there were issues, but…" Her voice trailed off, his tone thoughtful, and slightly worried.

"At any rate," she suddenly declared, eyes blazing. "Come on Lissa, quit your moaning. Henry'll lose interest. We've got a couple of new targets."

Lissa scowled at the jab but made to get up, smoothing out her ruffled pigtails.

"What are you two going to do?" Robin asked, concerned. There was a look in Chryme's eyes that was telling him she was looking forward to it, and if he knew the Assassin at all, then that was cause for concern.

"We need money, right? I'll steal the purses of a couple of those guards. It'll be easy. Lissa and I have a system… Oh!" exclaimed Chryme suddenly. "Tharja, Aversa, could you hex us to look a bit different? It'll be safer if we get caught. We'll leave before that happens though."

The two agreed, and Robin grimaced. It was risky, but Robin had lead men into battle only recently, and wasn't really one to make judgments. With the hexes, at least, they would be able to dispel them and return to anonymity immediately.

Chryme was actually very interested in the magic, and her grin turned almost feral after she peered at herself in her cup and found it had worked.

"Ah, if only I had magical aptitude… Lissa, you know the drill. Robin, expect us in the rooms ten minutes after we leave, if we have to."

To the laughter of the two girls, they left, meandering slowly across the room to their targets. The rest of the Shepherds watched in silence.

Their plan was very simple. Lissa would distract them while acting like a floozy, while Chryme would liberate their purses of excess coin.

It worked surprisingly well for such a simple plan. Lissa had the charm and the personality to enthrall most people immediately, while Chryme went to work in the shadowed background.

They only managed several purses though, before deeming it too risky to carry on and they fled the scene. The guards were drunk, and didn't realize they had been robbed.

Robin began to breath again after the two had extricated themselves from their positions. He hadn't even realized how nervous he was. Hopefully no one else would either, but that would mean hiding the faint marks his nails had left in his palm.

Ten minutes, Chryme had said. That left them with a little time to kill, before regrouping upstairs.

Aversa and Tharja suddenly dragged Panne off, mentioning only something about a girl talk, which left Robin with Henry. With nothing better to do, the two men decided to head for the rooms first.

Henry was abnormally quiet. As they made their way up the stairs, he coughed.

Robin was wary, and understandably so. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

The Dark Mage peered at him, eyes almost luminescent in the shadows, but remained silent. They continued walking up the stairs, through the hallway, and into one of their rooms. Chryme and Lissa weren't there, but that wasn't cause for concern.

Henry shut the door behind him while Robin sat on one of the beds.

"Robin," Henry began. "This is important. It's about before…"

As the Dark Mage's voice trailed off, Robin perked up. It was rare for Henry to be so solemn, and Robin's mind began to whir. "What's the matter?"

"It's just that… about Lissa, I mean…" Henry took a moment to compose his thoughts further, and Robin mentally exhaled a sigh of relief, having assumed the topic was more pressing than the teasing of the ever ecstatic Trickster.

"Were you unhappy when Panne made the insinuation between the two of you?" If the romance was less certain as they had thought, the rest of the Shepherds were in for a surprise.

"No, it's not that, but…" Henry paused once more, but then seemed to find his vigor. He bounded onto the bed next to Robin, the motion coursing through the bed and flipping Robin off and onto the ground.

"Her face!" exclaimed Henry. "When Panne said what she did, she had that weird face! And oh Grima, I never thought such beauty existed, and I play with gorgeous rivulets of blood in my spare time! Hahaha!" Henry laughed nervously, on a roll now. "But now, what if she hates me? She didn't react well at all afterwards! I didn't know what to do!

"Oh, and when they went to go rob those guards, I never felt so angry! The way they looked at her… I wanted to drown them in their own blood! Argh, maybe I'll go back and hex them right now! You think they're still there?"

This was the first time Henry had ever come to Robin about romantic advice, and he was momentarily stunned. This was unheard of, but it was good news. Sometimes Robin wondered if Henry was 'hemosexual,' given his obsession with blood.

Regardless, it wouldn't do to have Henry murder the guardsmen so Robin stopped him.

"Relax, it's okay," Robin mediated, picking himself off the ground. "Don't worry about those guys, and don't worry about Lissa. She's probably just embarrassed since it was in front of everyone. Not that we all didn't already see the sparks between you two. You've been really obvious about it."

Henry looked rather hopeful at that. "Really, you think so? I've never felt this way before, I don't know what to look for at all. Oh man, I haven't been able to stop thinking about her for ages, I thought she had hexed me or something. Nyahaha!"

The Dark Mage peered over at Robin, then threw a pillow at him. "What about you, huh? Don't you have a _thing_ going on with Chryme now? You two spend a lot of time together too!"

Robin blanched at the accusation, but fired back. "Not nearly as much as you two! When are you going to propose already?"

Henry ceased his laughing, then jumped off the bed and in front of Robin. His face was dead serious. "Marriage?" he asked.

"Yes, marriage. Don't get so solemn on me, I was just joking—"

"I'm going to marry Lissa," declared Henry, never looking more serious than ever in his life. "That is, if she'll have me. I have to propose!"

With his sudden declaration of love on the table, Henry rushed to the door and flung it open.

Crouched in the doorway were Chryme and Lissa, who had been listening to their conversation. Henry's sudden bolt for the doorway caught them unawares, and the two stared up at him, furious blushes across either of their faces.

A pregnant pause permeated the room, before Henry suddenly smiled, eyes only for Lissa.

"Wow, your face is so red!" laughed Henry.

Lissa, suddenly meek, nodded, unsure of how to react. "O-oh, is it?"

"Yes!" chirped Henry. "You look really beautiful like that too!"

Robin hadn't thought it possible, but Lissa blushed even harder. She opened her mouth as if to respond, but then closed it, still speechless.

She stood, shakily. Henry looked at her curiously, taking in the sight of her flushed face like a feast for a starved man. Some further resolve manifested in him, and he began earnestly, taking Lissa's hands in his.

"Listen, Lissa, I—"

"Not here!" she squeaked, pulling her hands out of his. At Henry's devastated look, she bit her lip, eyes downcast.

"I, err—please, Henry, I don't want an audience… Come, I need some space."

As if mustering her own courage, Lissa lead Henry out of the doorway and into the next room over, shutting the door behind her.

Silence stretched between Robin and Chryme, who were left in the aftermath. They looked at each other, eyes wide.

"Is… is he going to propose to my sister _right now?_ Oh Naga, oh _Naga_ _what am I going to tell Emm?"_

Robin moved to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, he probably is," he said. It wouldn't do to hide the truth with Chryme now, not with how panicked she was. "Is she going to accept? This is really sudden."

"I… I don't actually know! Lissa's been telling me how charming he is when he wants to be, and I've seen the way she looks at him. I know my sister, she's so enchanted with him…" Chryme's voice was shaky, her mind aflutter. But she turned to Robin after a moment, and gazed straight at him.

"Is he a good person?" she asked. She was dead serious.

"Yes," Robin affirmed. "Henry's always been a bit different, but he's a good guy. He'd never hurt your sister."

Chryme, convinced by Robin's calm demeanor, relaxed slightly. She willed herself to calm, then suddenly stopped short. The door had opened.

Lissa, a light pink still present on her face, entered the room. Henry was behind her, and they were both smiling.

"Don't worry Chryme," Lissa said. "I know you've been freaking out in here."

"You turned him down?" asked Chryme, incredulous. "But you said… so handsome, a keeper, your _dream guy_ —"

"Stop!" interrupted Lissa, red once more. "Don't tell him I said that! I've been embarrassed enough today!"

Taking a deep breath, Lissa continued. "I accepted his confession, but it's too early for marriage. We're on a mission here, we should try and put that first." As she said that, she looked at Robin, her consideration unspoken.

Robin disagreed though. "No, I'm not against the two of you being together. Am I supposed to assign you to different areas and keep you two apart? Because you're together? That's horrible, I won't do that to my friends. And hey, you might even fight better for it," Robin declared, having already considered the scenario. "Just try and keep yourselves discrete, alright?"

Chryme whipped her head over to glare at him. "Oh Naga, this is my _sister_ you're talking about! Don't _encourage_ them!"

"Chryme! We haven't even kissed yet! Don't say that!"

Lissa was angry and more than a little embarrassed once more, but Henry interrupted the sisters' spat.

"We haven't yet, huh," he said slowly.

Lissa gave him a confused look. "...Yes, of course not. Wouldn't you remember doing that? I know I would—"

Henry dashed forward and kissed her.

After a moment's pause, Lissa began to kiss him back.

Everyone else in the room seemed to have been forgotten, so Robin grabbed the shell shocked Chryme and fled to the other room.

She sat on the bed and rested her face in her hands.

"Oh Naga, I'm going to be an aunt."

Robin laughed, and after a moment, she began to as well.

"So, are you really against them together?" he asked when their merriment had subsided.

Chryme scoffed. "Of course not, I just don't want to see any of it. She is my sister, afterall. Oh, and here, the steal."

She tossed a couple purses at Robin, and he whistled. They were fairly heavy.

"When did you guys start listening to us? Did you hear everything?" As Robin asked, he suddenly remembered that Lissa wasn't the only girl the two guys had talked about, but it was too late to take back the question.

Chryme laughed, gazing fondly through a dark window. "Yeah, we came up the stairs just as you guys closed the door behind you, and of course, we're Thieves. We have to listen in, it's part of the job. We were about to enter, but you two started talking about Lissa, and she just froze."

The Assassin laughed again, no doubt remembering the look on Lissa's face. "Henry going on about Lissa made her so red, Naga… I—"

She cut herself off, then slowly, turned to look at Robin. He was red too, and they both knew the other remembered Henry's accusation about the two of them.

"Ahaha!" cried Chryme, nervously. "Welp, better interrupt those two now! I won't be an aunt just yet!"

She dashed out of the room and into the other one, and slowly, Robin stretched out across the bed. This day had way too many emotional upheavals.

He closed his eyes. He hadn't wanted to address the topic anyway. She was just his friend, right? Plus, did he even think of her that way —

" _Chryme, get out!"_ came Lissa's screech.

Robin sighed. Briefly, he wondered if he would be the best man at the wedding.

As the two sisters began arguing in the other room and Henry's laugh echoed through the hallway, Robin shrugged.

Yeah, he was going to be the best man.

* * *

"Henry, listen. I like you too, I really do. But it's too soon for us to get married... I want to experience being in love like this a while longer. And we have a duty, but I won't let that get in the way of my feelings if you don't either... If you want to marry me, you'll have to be more careful in battle, okay? You're not allowed to leave me alone. Now, come on! I bet my sister's having a break down in the other room, if she's not listening at the door." - Lissa, to Henry.

* * *

AN: Hey y'all, I have another chapter now, yay. Not much to say, other than I hope you guys enjoyed it. I realize you could call it filler, but I think I accomplished what I wanted to do with this chapter. Yay!

Review Responses! SharpRevan: Thank you, thank you. That last quote right there was my favorite part about the omake too! Cormag Ravenstaff: I hope you're glad to see we're in Ylisse now, not that anything has really happened. Don't worry, I've got lots of storms to brew over our happy Shepherds.

And, omake! Featuring… Robin x Olivia? But, I haven't introduced her yet!? Oh well, she had a cameo in the chapter, and this is where the omake fits.

* * *

"Nyahaha, Lissa! Let's get married and have two and a half children!" - Henry.

* * *

Robin hadn't really noticed before this campaign, but Henry snored. Loudly.

Getting out of bed, he headed for the inn's main room. At this point, anything was better than listening to the symphony of Henry.

As Robin began to descend the stairs, he paused. It was the middle of the night, but he could hear the gentle strumming of a harp from the inn, a sharp contrast to the cacophony he had been enduring. It was calming, and he yawned. Might as well find out what was going on.

…

Robin peeked out from behind a corner. There, by the light of a single, wispy candle, sat a gorgeous girl. Pink hair seemed to sway around her body like the light fabric she wore as she plucked at the chords, frowning. That was a tragedy in and of itself. Beauty like that deserved better.

She growled to herself as Robin approached, and he laughed. It was cute.

"Oh!" she said, startled. "S-sorry, was I disturbing your sleep?"

"It's no bother," assured Robin. She seemed flighty, and Robin had no desire to scare her off. "I was just wondering why you're here at this time of night. I'm Robin, by the way."

"Olivia," she replied shyly. "I was just trying to see how to play this song properly…"

"Are you a musician?" he asked. She didn't seem very good.

"No, I'm a dancer actually. I've always wanted to dance to this court song, but I can't seem to remember how it went at all. Oh, I'm useless."

Robin shrugged. "I can play the harp a bit, and I know several songs, actually. Let me see if I know it. You can dance to it, if you like."

At that, Olivia perked up, eyes bright, but she still seemed shy. "D-dance? In front of you?"

She seemed suddenly self conscious of her attire, but steeled herself. She stood and walked to the middle of the dark room, enveloped by the shadows.

"O-okay, I'll try. Whenever you're ready…?"

Slightly confused at her attitude, Robin acquiesced and sat. He did know several songs, but they were all Plegian. Probably not any she had heard before.

He began to play the first song, and Olivia frowned.

"No, not that. Please, the next." Her tone was suddenly more business-like and intimidating, and Robin suppressed a shiver. She had been so coy before, but she took her music and dance very seriously, it seemed.

He began to play the next song, and she shot him down again. It happened twice over, and Robin began to get frustrated. He had always thought he was proficient at the harp, but now it seemed nothing he did was capable of her approval. Almost angrily, he began to play the next.

Robin was putting all his effort into the song. Each note had to be flawless, each melody had to be perfect.

Moments passed, and Robin realized she hadn't stopped him. He looked up from his meticulously moving fingers, and was ensnared.

She was dancing now, eyes closed, moving to the rhythm he had created. Each of her movements was hypnotic. She was beauty incarnate, here in front of him, and she was dancing to his song.

...

And then the song ended, too quickly. She opened her eyes and they looked at each other, almost breathless with the stillness of the moment. Something special had just happened, and they both knew it.

"That was amazing," Robin said, almost mourning the ending of her performance.

She blushed. "T-thank you. You weren't so bad yourself. I didn't expect to find a master harpist here!"

"I can dance too," Robin laughed. "Not at all as well as you though." That much was evident, but she raised an eyebrow.

"Try dancing with me," Olivia blushed. She held out a hand.

"A-are you sure? What about the music?" Robin stammered.

"I don't think we'll need it," she murmured. She took his hand, and slowly, they began to dance.

Through one dance, then two, then three. Time was forgotten. All that mattered was the girl in his arms, and judging by the way she was looking at him, she seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

* * *

"Nyahaha, what a nice dance! Hey Lissa, want to do a horizontal one—Ow! Don't hit me! I was talking about limbo!" - Henry.

* * *

Keep it rated T, Henry.


End file.
